


Insanity's love

by CRMGrimmi



Series: 2ps / 1ps vice versa [2]
Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2p Countries, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Yaoi, every chapter is a smut, selfcest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-18 03:51:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2334227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CRMGrimmi/pseuds/CRMGrimmi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>2p countries / countries basically. Each chapter is a different pairing and is full of smut. More tags will be added as chapters will be added.<br/>-Mod CRM</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2p!England x 1p!England

Oliver pushed England unto the bed, and pinned him down upon it. They had left the countries and their parallel selves to sort each other out, while the Englands went home. Oliver kept his promise, and the second they had returned home, England found himself being picked up and carried to his bedroom.

Oliver smiled down at him, and England gave a nervous smile back. “L-Look, Oliver, d-don’t you think it’s a bit weird? I mean, we do have the same faces, and that’s a bit- EEEK!” England tried to negotiate, but Oliver only pressed his knee against England covered shaft, and England squeaked.

“Talk later, sex now.” Oliver grinned innocently at a blushing England. He bent down and licked his way from England’s lips to his collar bone, and bit down playfully on it, earning a surprised yelp from his blonde self. He pulled off England’s jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the pale skin beneath. Oliver licked and sucked on one of the nipples, turning it stiff and hard, before moving to the other nipple. England squirmed, shuddered and moaned underneath his pink haired self, and did nothing to stop him. He was stripped off his trousers, and left on partially in his shirt and boxers. His face was as red as a tomato, and Oliver laughed. “Aw, come on~ there’s no need to be so shy~” he cooed, pinching one of England’s hard nipples.

England let out a surprised moan, and pressed his chest against Oliver’s hand. Oliver chuckled, and ran his index finger down his other self’s chest, resting on the navel. England moaned impatiently, urging Oliver to go beyond. He got what he asked for, because a hand wrapped around his half hard shaft, and started pumping and rubbing it. England hissed in pleasure, bucking his hips. Oliver smirked at the reaction and pressed his lips against the head, flicking his tongue over it. England gasped in shock, and Oliver engulfed the cock completely.

The blonde country cried out in pleasure when the hot wet warmth wrapped around his shaft, making him buck even more. Oliver gagged, but continued licking and sucking on his blonde self. He slipped a single finger into England’s entrance without warning. The green eyes man squeaked in surprise.

“O-Oliver! Wait! You can’t ju-ah!” England moaned loudly when the finger inside of him starting thrusting in and out. The finger was joined by a second finger, then a third. The three fingers stretched England’s entrance, and at the same time, Oliver sucked and licked on his shaft. England gasped, taking in deep breathes. Oliver then let go of England’s shaft, and took out his fingers.

“Hm~ I think that’s enough foreplay~” he purred, stripping from his own clothes, and revealing his hard cock. He was pale white all over his body, and was covered in freckles, especially on the shoulders and chest. England gulped, but did nothing to stop his pink haired self. Oliver grinned widely, and stroked himself quickly, before lining himself in front of England’s stretched entrance. Oliver gave a questioning look to the England underneath him.

England nodded, but as soon as he felt Oliver enter him, he cried out in pain and wrapped his arms around Oliver’s shoulders, tears running down his face from the pain. Oliver’s freckled body shuddered with the pleasure of feeling England’s hot walls engulf him completely. England cried out again when he started thrusting mercilessly into him. More tears ran down England’s cheeks, running down his neck and chest. Oliver licked them away, kissing England’s wet face gently. England felt Oliver inside him, and it hurt, but felt so good at the same time. At one particularly hard thrust, England felt a pang of pleasure travel all the way up his spine. 

He literally screamed out in pleasure, arching his back and throwing his head backwards as Oliver kept thrusting into him, his strawberry pink hair plastered to his freckled face with sweat. Sky blue eyes roamed England’s pleasured body, while England himself had his eyes tight shut and holding on tightly to Oliver’s shoulders. 

“Oliver! Oli-ah! I-I’m gonna-ah!” England made no sense, but Oliver knew what he was saying. As an answer, Oliver reached down to his blonde self’s weeping cock, and started pumping it. England screamed again as the coil in his lower abdomen released, and he sprayed his essence over himself and Oliver. The latter moaned loudly, feeling England tighten himself dramatically around him, and finally his spilt his own essence into England. 

They laid there, panting and gasping for air, England twitching a little. After a few minutes, Oliver still hadn’t pulled out of England.

“Oliver…?” England asked sleepily. Oliver looked at him, and he grinned widely.

“How about another round?” he asked cheerfully. 

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ England thought wearily, staring disbelievingly at Oliver and his endless stamina.


	2. 1p!America x 2p!America

“Get that crap away from me!” Allen hissed, pointing his bat to America’s food. America stared at him with a deadpan expression.

“Dude, what is your problem?” America said, munching at him burger. Allen had a disgusted expression. 

“I’m a vegetarian you idiot!” he whined, pinching his nose angrily. America continued staring.

“Oh, right. Parallel self thing…” America murmured. “Well, tough, I like meat, and I’m eating it. If you want a veggie burger you can go buy it yourself.”

“You were the one who said I couldn’t buy anything on my own because I scare the people!” Allen yelled. America cringed. 

‘Sheesh, he’s just as short tempered as Germany…’

“Meh, true enough. Fine, I’ll order one.” 

The two Americas were in a McDonalds, much to Allen’s disgust, and America had ordered two burgers with meat. America grumbled the veggie burger order to the woman at the till, and brought it back to Allen. “There, happy now?”

“Hmph, I’m not a happy person anyway, so whatever you do won’t make a difference.” Allen hissed. America growled.

“Aren’t you just the little blue bird of happiness?” America said sarcastically. Allen bared his teeth at America, but said no more. He glared suspiciously at his burger, and nipped it, before sighing irritably and taken a bite. “Not so bad after all is it?”

“Tastes like chemicals.” Allen mumbled in between bites. America glared at him.

“Why are you here anyway? I thought you only came here to pick Oliver.” America asked, disgruntled. Allen nodded.

“Yeah, but the dude disappeared with the other Iggy, so we all decided to just stay he and check what this world is like.” He explained. 

“Oh really? And how’s this Washington DC for you then?” America asked flatly. Allen stared at his half eaten veggie burger. America saw hesitance in his features. Why was he hesitating? 

“It’s…different.” Allen said indifferently. America knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious, dude. Come on, details!” He urged on. Allen sighed, and looked at a family nearby their table. There was a little girl and an older boy, and both parents were with them. The girl was playing with her toy cat, while the boy imagined his toy car being a real car, and was making motor noises. The father was imitating the boy, much to the latter’s amusement, and the mother was laughing gently as the little girl made her toy cat sit on her mother’s head.

“…How can people be so happy?” Allen asked suddenly. America stared at him, then at the family and back to Allen. “I mean, what is there to be happy about?”

“You guys really don’t have much fun in your world, do you?” America asked, someone feeling sorry for Allen. 

“Not really, we tend to argue most of the time, and that gets boring.” Allen shrugged, and continued eating. America looked thoughtfully at Allen. 

“What do you think of Oliver?” America asked. Allen shrugged.

“Why should I care about him? But if you really want to know, he’s annoying. He always acts like he’s my mom. Now, I wish I had a proper family, but Oliver does it in a really annoying way, and anyway, he’s always off killing somebody when he’s bored. Matt’s not any better.” Allen mumbled.

“Matt? Is that Canada?”

“Yeah, he’s name’s Mathieu, but we call ‘im Matt.” Allen shrugged. America nodded, and they both finished their meal. Allen had urged (threatened) America to show him round, and America decided to show him Washington DC. They strolled around for some time, and even though Allen looked bored, he was enjoying this. The place was sunny, and everybody was much more happy than his own home. “Hey, ‘Merica, what’s your house like? I wanna see it.”

“Hm, sure, this way.” America said pointing towards a more empty street. They came to a large house, which was actually very well kept. Allen gaped at it. 

“Wow…it’s clean.” He commented. America stared at Allen with a deadpan expression.

“What, did you expect a pig dump or something?” he asked indignantly.

“No…it’s exactly like my house, just…cleaner.” Allen murmured angrily. America raised an eyebrow, and pulled Allen inside. The place was a little messy, but it was more of an organised chaos. Allen looked at everything, except the kitchen, which he said was probably filled to the brim with meat.

“Is your place really that depressing?” America whined. Allen hissed.

“I told you already! There’s nothing happy about our world!” Allen yelled. 

“OK, OK, I get it, but are you ever happy, at all?” America asked. Allen shook his head, and looked at the massive TV in America’s living room.

“No…well, I’ve never been happy since I was born. Life’s always been a bitch to me.” Allen said. America’s eyes softened. “Things like, happiness, joy and love are meaningless to me.”

Before America knew what he was doing, he had wrapped his arms around Allen from the back, and rested his forehead on the back of Allen’s neck. Allen jolted and he felt his cheeks heat up.

“What the hell do ya think yer doing?!” he yelled, embarrassed. He tried to get out of America’s grip but Allen realised that America was a heck of a lot stronger than he was. “Get off!” he twisted round to look at America, which meant they were now chest against chest. “Shit…” he mumbled bashfully.

America smiled at him, and the chocolate brown haired man couldn’t help but think that America’s smile was cute. Allen was about to shout again, but he was silenced by America’s lips. His muffled cry of surprise was lost in America’s open mouth, and let the blue eyed country slid his tongue inside the red eyed one. Allen couldn’t help but moan. America roamed around his mouth, caressing his pointed canines, and urging his tongue to respond. Allen tried to get out of this situation, but America had a hand in his hair, and was keeping him in place. Slowly, very slowly, Allen relaxed, and touched his other self’s tongue. America smiled into the kiss and pushed himself fully against Allen. The latter started responding roughly, yet in the back of his mind, he knew he was completely oblivious to what he needed to do. 

America pulled back, and chuckled as he saw Allen’s tanned cheeks were a very lovely crimson colour. “What was that about?” Allen asked in an embarrassed tone. He was looking away from America, but the latter took his chin in between his index finger and his thumb and made him look at him. He smiled brightly.

“I dunno why, but I think I’ve fallen in love with you.” America declared. Allen’s face turned scarlet, even up to the tip of his ears, and his sun glasses dropped from their position on his head unto his nose.

“EEEEEEH?! HOW CAN YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH A GUY, A GUY?! AND AFTER BARELY A DAY!” Allen exclaimed, trying to whack America in the face. The blue-eyed country dodged, but slipped over Allen’s feet and fell sideways, pulling Allen down with him. “GAH!”

America laid on his back on the floor, Allen on him. The red-eyed country sat up, annoyed, but forgot that he was on America, and ended siting on the latter’s navel. Allen blushed again, America looking up at him with a big grin. “Awkward~” he teased.

“SH-SHUT UP YOU MEAT EATING IDIOT!” Allen yelled trying to stand up, but America rested his hands on Allen’s hips. Allen gasped in shock and looked down at his other self.

“Hey, have you ever wondered what it’s like to have somebody care for you?” America asked gently. Allen stared at him.

“Yes, so what if I have?” he asked angrily, blushing madly. America smiled, standing up, but also pulling up Allen to his feet. He pulled him towards the stairs and to his bedroom. This was the cleanest room by far, which surprised Allen. But he had more important things to worry about. “Oi, what do you think you’re doing?!” he exclaimed angrily. America made him sit on the edge of the bed, and kneeled in between his legs. Allen’s face darkened in colour, and he just stared at his blonde version of himself. America unzipped Allen’s jeans, and started nuzzling Allen’s underwear. The brown haired man’s voice hitched a little, but he said nothing. America smiled, and massaged Allen’s shaft through his underwear, quickly get a reaction. Allen moaned when America slipped his hand into his underwear, wrapping his hand around Allen’s half hard shaft. He pumped him, then licked the top of the shaft’s head.

Allen gasped, and America took the occasion to engulf Allen into his mouth. Allen moaned loudly, relishing the feeling of his cock in America’s warm mouth. America sucked and licked him, urging Allen to moan louder. Allen arched his back, and with a moan, came into America’s mouth. The latter coughed and choked a little, cum running down his chin as he swallowed. He licked his lips and looked up at the panting Allen.

“Enjoyed that, didn’t you~?” he teased. Allen huffed and pouted a little. “I know you did~” America grinned, and pushed Allen backwards, so that his back was on the bed. 

“Eh?! You’re doin’ more?!” Allen exclaimed.

“‘Course I am!” America chimed, stripping them both of their clothes, leaving them both naked. Allen blushed even more, while America kissed his neck lightly, slowly moving down to his chest, flicking his tongue at the hardening nipples. Allen heard America rummage through some drawers near them, and also heard the opening of a bottle. He opened his eyes that he hadn’t notice he had closed, and saw America pouring lube over his fingers. Allen started worrying.

“Hey, hey, ‘Merica, c-can’t y-y-y-you wait a bit…?” Allen stuttered, somehow worrying about the weird feeling he had been aware of for a while. America smiled.

“It’s alright, it will just hurt a little.” America soothed, pressing a finger against Allen’s tight entrance, and pushed it in. It wasn’t so bad, Allen thought, but it was still a very foreign feeling. America slowly pushed a second finger in, then a third, stretching Allen. The latter mewled in need, bucking his hips subconsciously. America took out his fingers, and lubed himself, pushing the head of cock against Allen’s entrance. “Ready?” he asked.

Allen couldn’t say anything, so gave a little nod. America pushed into Allen slowly, entering him completely. Allen was taking deep breathes, and America kissed his neck as he pulled out, and thrusted into him. Allen moaned, and wrapped his legs around America’s waist, holding his shoulders. America started thrusting quicker and harder, setting out a steady pace. Allen moaned loudly each time. However, when America thrusted into his prostate, he cried out in absolute pleasure, and arched his back.

“A-AH! There!” he cried out, moaning at the same time. America aimed for that spot again, and Allen cried out repeatedly as his prostate was abuse. “G-gonna cum…” he choked out in between cries. 

“Me too.” America breathed out, thrusting deeply into Allen. The latter cried out when he came hard, covering his and America’s chest with his essence. America came inside of Allen at the same time. He thrusted a couple more times before pulling out of Allen and lying next to him on the bed. He pulled himself and Allen inside the bed. They stayed in an awkward silence, lying next to each other on their stomachs. 

“Well that was fun…” Allen mumbled truthfully, still blushing. America grinned, and laid an arm on Allen’s shoulders. 

“See~?” he teased. Allen pouted a little blushing.

“Mhmmhm…” he muffled into the pillow. America couldn’t hear him.

“Eh? Say that again?”

“MHMMHM!” Allen repeated, louder.

“Come, don’t say it to the pillow, dude, say to my face!” America pouted.

“I LOVE YOU, ASSHOLE!” Allen shouted in his face. “There! Happy?!” America stared for a second, then grinned, laughing. He hugged Allen.

“Love you too, sweetie~” he emphasised on the last word. Allen pulled his cheek.

“You are not calling me that. In front of the others at least.” He half-scorned. 

“What about babe?” America asked.

“NO!”


	3. 2p!Canada x 1p!Canada

Canada trembled under the intense look of the other Canada. “H-Hi…?” he whimpered.

“Seriously? You’re my other self?” The other Canada grunted. “Pretty pathetic.” She took Canada’s face into his hand, squashing his cheeks. Canada whimpered, but didn’t move, holding his polar bear tightly. “Hm, whatever.” The taller Canada let go of the shorter one.

“Ugh…um…Y-You’re…Mathieu…right?” Canada asked.

“M’yeah, but everyone calls me Matt.” Matt grunted. Canada nodded quickly, fidgeting a little. 

“I-I get called Mattie by the others a lot, eh...” He said quietly, looking down.

“Hm, sure, whatever.” Matt shrugged in an uncaring way. He took a cigarette out his packet, and put it to his mouth, lighting it. Canada coughed a little at the smoke. “Don’t smoke, I suspect?” 

“U-Um…no, not really…” The smaller country said quietly.

“Hm.” Matt grunted. They sat in a thick awkward silence. Canada fidgeted, running his fingers in Kumajirou’s fur. 

“S-Since you’re my parallel self, does that mean you get noticed…?” the shorted Canadian asked quietly. Matt looked at him indifferently, and shrugged.

“M’yeah, too much if you ask me. It gets irritating when everyone starts arguing and they expect you to join in.” he sighed, exhaling some smoke. Canada nodded.

“I’m the opposite. No one ever notices me, and I never get to say my opinion, and people confuse me for America all the time, eh…” he murmured. Matt shrugged in an uncaring way, even though he was a little interested at his other self’s situation. They really were opposites.

“Hm. D’you like ice hockey?” Matt asked randomly. Canada perked up and seemed to beam at Matt.

“I love ice hockey!” he exclaimed in his own quiet way. Matt thought that this girly version of himself looked quite cute. He realised what he had just thought, and mentally smacked himself. “Do you want so if there’s a match on, eh?” Canada asked sweetly, smiling brightly. Matt nodded.

“Sure, whatever.” He grunted again. At least they had one thing in common. Canada reached for the remote, and turned on the TV. They were currently in Canada’s house, as most of the parallel countries had decided to follow their other selves to learn about this new world. Canada skipped a few channels, and finally found a sports channel. An ice hockey match was starting, and the two Canadians concentrated on the TV screen. At one point in the match, a member of the team Matt was supporting slashed at one of Canada’s team members, hitting him over the head while another of Matt’s team speared at his legs, yet neither got a Major Penalty (five minute penalty).

“Hey! What the heck!? Totally not fair!” Canada exclaimed angrily. Matt looked at his other self.

“Don’t get so riled up over something like that.” He grunted, but stared blankly at the screen when one of the best players of his team got a Misconduct (ten minute penalty) for basically doing nothing. “WHAT THE HELL?!” he shouted. Canada sneered. 

“Ha! Now that’s fair!” he shot at Matt.

“No it’s not! That referee is messed up!” The taller man shouted. 

“Payback for before!” the shorted man retorted angrily. They had a good go at each other, shouted and yelling at each other about the referee and ‘not fair’ this and ‘not fair’ that. They only stopped shouting when they match ended in a draw. They glared at each other.

“My team should of won.” Matt hissed. Canada narrowed his eyes.

“Ahem, no! They shouldn’t have won! My team should have won! They were fair and kept to the rules, while your team cheated 99.9% plus 0.01% of the time!” he shouted. 

“Grrr! What do you mean?!” Matt growled, grabbing Canada’s Maple leaf hoodie from the front. 

“I mean what I said!” Canada yelled and kicked Matt in the shin. They wrestled with each other, the poor little polar bear rushing away before he caught up in the fight. Accidently, Canada tripped over backwards unto the sofa, Matt falling on top of him.

They wrestled some more, before realising the awkward position. Matt was in between Canada’s legs, their hips were touching and Matt had Canada’s wrist pinned to the sofa. They also both looked a little dishevelled. They stared at each other, before both of their faces exploded into a bright beetroot red. 

“Awkward…” Canada whispered, not daring to move, unless he wanted to grind his hips against Matt’s, which would not be a good idea.

“Bastard, don’t say things like that!” Matt grumbled, obviously embarrassed and completely out of place.

“Who’re you calling a bastard?! You’re not any better yourself!” Canada retorted. Matt frowned, his sunglasses falling a little from his face. 

“Tsch, you’ve got guts arguing with the person who’s got you trapped.” Matt pointed out, and Canada had to agree with Matt, though he would never say that. Instead he gave the taller man a daring grin, purple eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I may seem cute and gentle, but when I want to I can be a real fighter. Ask America next time you see him. Nobody argues with me when it comes to ice hockey and gets away with it. Nobody.” He warned. Matt narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, same thing goes for me, Mattie.” He whispered, a ghost of a smile on his face.

“Eh?” Canada’s blush worsened, and the fact that Matt was leaning down to him wasn’t really helping. Matt pressed his lips against Canada’s, maybe a little hesitantly. Canada stared wide eyed into dark blue eyes. Matt pulled away. Canada stared. “…WHAT THE FUCK?!” He shouted, hitting Matt on the head.

“OW!”

~

Canada bandaged Matt’s forehead half-heartedly, making sure to wrapped the bandages around his head too tightly. “Hey, I said I was sorry.” Matt grumbled.

“SORRY, does NOT cut it! You don’t go around kissing people when they’re fighting.” Canada scolded.

“So it’s OK when they’re not fighting?” Matt asked flatly.

“IT’S NEVER OK!” Canada scolded again. Matt shrank under the intense stare of the small Canadian.

‘Oh my god he’s so freaking adorable.’ Matt thought. He decided that he had a big crush on the little dude; even if they had just met , what, four hours ago? Canada sighed, and went to thr fridge, and took out some pancakes, and put them in the microwave. Matt’s mouth watered at the smell of pancakes. Canada settled in a seat opposite Matt on the kitchen table, maple syrup and a plate of pancakes in hand. 

Matt stared greedily at the pancakes, but Canada didn’t offer him any. Instead, he covered them with maple syrup, and ate them, murderously slow. Matt drooled each time Canada ate a piece of pancake, and had puppy look on his face. Canada ignored him mercilessly. At the last piece of pancake, Matt was seriously depressed. 

Canada put the piece of pancake into his mouth, and grabbed the front of Matt’s chequered red and black shirt, and pulled him towards him. Matt was taken by surprise, and gasped a little in shock, before having soft lips crashed onto his own. A tongue pushed through Matt’s lips, entangling with Matt’s own tongue. Matt was completely frozen, and only when the a piece of pancake transferred from Canada’s mouth to his mouth did his senses start to kick in. But Canada had already pulled away. 

Matt stared, mouth closed. Canada beamed cutely at him. “Payback~!” he chimed sweetly. Matt swallowed the piece of pancake.

‘I’m going to die from this dude’s cuteness.’ He thought, blushing madly. 

~

That night, after a whole day of sightseeing around Canada’s version of his country, Matt was crept out of the guest room and into Canada’s room. He peeped in, and saw Canada sleeping. He was sleeping on his side, hair a little ruffled.

‘HE LOOKS LIKE AN ANGEL. OH MY GOD. HIS FACE LOOKS SO SQUISHY.’ Matt thought, his face showing boredom, but he was blushing. He tiptoed to Canada’s bed, and crouched next to it, staring at his opposite self. Compared to him, Canada was perfect. He was sweet, kind, an excellent cook, funny, a tease when needed, a good fighter and so much more. To be honest, Matt had be surprised when Canada had been able to hold his ground when they wrestled earlier. 

He gulped. This was becoming more than a simple crush, and Matt knew it. He wondered why his guardian, Jean, the other France, had never taught him to deal with his emotions. Well…he had never really taught him anything, or had ever really cared. But Jean had taught him self-defence and those sorts of things, and Matt was thankful. Matt could overcome so many things thanks to Jean, but this kid, the cute little angelic one in front of him, was the first thing he couldn’t figure out without wanting him to become his. Heck, Matt couldn’t even figure out why wanted the squidgy faced kid. 

Matt touched Canada’s face gently, brushing the hair out of his face. He really was cute, in more ways than one. Matt would of stared at him forever, if he hadn’t had the sudden urge to kiss the angelic face. He gulped a little, not wanting to wake up his shorter self, but leaned closer and kissed Canada’s forehead. The shorter man mumbled something in his sleep, but otherwise nothing. Matt sighed a little.

He stroked Canada’s face gently. It was so soft, almost like a baby’s. Matt chuckled a little. Unlike with any of the other countries, Canada made Matt feel relaxed. Matt felt like he could be himself with Canada. He didn’t have to pretend to be some macho violent dude; because to be honest, he could be very gentle when he wanted to be. But he had been brought up by both Jean and Oliver, so he was taught to be either a lazy loveless jackass or a ruthless psychopathic murderer. He was a mix of both. He wasn’t lazy, but he was loveless and jackass, and he wasn’t psychopathic or a murderer, but he was ruthless. So he was a ruthless loveless jackass. But at times, he could be the gentle giant sort of guy. 

He loved nature, and he truly wanted to be loved. Allen was in a similar situation as he was too, and Matt wanted to be able to get along with his brother properly, but everything usually ended in anger and arguments. This sucked if you asked the Canadian. 

While Matt was thinking all of this while stroking Canada’s face, the smaller Canadian moaned a little, and his eyes fluttered opened. Matt noticed this, and quickly took his hand away. Canada yawned a little and blinked at Matt. “Hm? Matt? What’s wrong, eh?” he asked sleepily.

“N-Nothing…I just can’t sleep…” Matt lied. Canada blinked at him again, then smiled sweetly. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Canada teased, and Matt half blushed half glared. The smaller Canada giggled, and lifted his duvet. Matt looked confused, and Canada rolled his eyes cutely, and pulled Matt in, much to the taller man’s shock. The duvet covered them both, and Canada was holding Matt’s head gently, so that Matt was facing Canada’s pyjama top. 

Matt was blushing madly, his heartbeat quickening rapidly. Canada was stroking his long hair gently, humming a random lullaby like tune. “You know, Matt, when I used to get nightmares, I would go crying to France. He’d hug me until I fell asleep, and I would feel safe. But then England became my guardian, but he was a good guardian too. He also let America and me sleep with him when we got scared.” Canada mumbled. Matt listened quietly.

“You are so lucky…” he muttered quietly, but Canada heard him.

“What do you mean, eh?” he asked curiously. Matt stayed silent, trying how to explain his situation without confessing his more-than-a-simple-crush crush. 

“When I was little, France, or Jean, he…wasn’t exactly a father like figure to me…he didn’t really give a shit about me, and used to ramble on about this useless thing called love. Still does today…anyway, the only valuable thing he taught me was how to survive, and swear words. Lots of those. Like you, England…Oliver, became my guardian, but he taught me more on how to kill and fight and stuff like that. He babied me a lot, but I didn’t like it. It was too much, and too fake. I…I truly want to be loved. I wished Jean cared a little, just a bit…I wish Oliver would really tell me how he felt about me and Allen…and I wished me and Allen would get along better…You’re lucky. Your France and England really cared for you, and you America protects you, even if he does seem a bit like the ‘take advantage of other people’s weaknesses’ sort of guy…” Matt said, trying to keep his voice flat.

“Hmph, he is that sort of guy sometimes…” Canada nodded, eyes closed. “…have you ever told Jean or Oliver or Allen how you feel?”

“I’ve tried multiple times. They only laughed, or shrugged, and in the end I gave up.” Matt answered, feeling himself starting to get depressed. The two Canadians stayed in a somewhat comforting silence for a while.

“…Hey Matt…” Canada whispered gently.

“What?” Matt said bluntly.

“I love you.” Canada emphasized the ‘I’. Matt froze. Did he hear correctly or was Canada just sleep talking or was he still sleeping himself? 

“What did you say…?” Matt asked shakily.

“I love you. I love you Matt.” Canada said, opening his eyes and looking into Matt’s wide ones. 

“S-Say it again…” he murmured, and he almost sounded like he was begging. Canada smiled sweetly.

“I love you. I love you so very much.” Canada repeated several times, and Matt relaxed into his arms.

“I…I…I…I l…l-l-l…I love you too…Mattie…” Matt said with trouble, the words stuck in his throat. He pushed himself up unto his elbows, and kissed Canada on the cheek, then on the nose. Canada giggled, and kissed Matt gently on the lips. Matt answered the kiss gently, and licked Canada’s bottom lip gently. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, he was just acting on instinct.

Canada parted his lips, and let Matt’s tongue enter his mouth. Matt loved this closeness of another person, but he wanted more. Matt pushed Canada underneath him, unto his back without breaking the kiss. Hands roamed the small body, stroking and rubbing gently. Canada moaned softly into the kiss, lifting his hips a bit. Matt got the idea, and stripped himself of his clothes, before stripping the man underneath him of his clothes too.

Only when both Canadians were stark naked that they broke the kiss, panting a little. “Mattie…” Matt breathed, loving how the named so much like his own rolled off his tongue so easily. Canada moaned, and kissed Matt’s nose.

“Make me yours, Matt. I want to be yours.” He murmured gently. Those words made Matt’s blood go southward. Fuck foreplay. But he didn’t want to hurt his little Canada, so he put through fingers to Canada’s mouth. Canada seemed to know what to do, and took his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them like a hungry baby. 

“H-Have you done this before…? Cause it looks like you know what to do…” Matt said nervously, retrieving his fingers from Canada’s mouth. The purple eyed country looked at him in an amused way.

“Are we getting jealous?” he teased, and Matt pouted a little. Canada laughed, and shook his head. “Nope, I haven’t done this before…but when you’ve had a person like my France as your guardian, you sort of get the hang of what to do during sex. I mean, dude, there’s barely a moment when he’s not talking about love, sex, girls, food or himself.” Canada chuckled. Matt felt reassured. 

“OK…tell me if I do anything that hurts.” He said gently, kissing Canada’s necked lightly, and pressed his index finger against Canada’s entrance. He pushed it in up to his knuckle, and looked at Canada’s reaction. The latter nodded, and Matt pushed another finger in. This time Canada flinched, but took in deep breaths, trying to relax himself as much as he could. After a while, Canada nodded again, and Matt added a third finger. 

Canada arched his back a little while Matt stretched him wide, pushing his fingers in deeply. Suddenly, Canada shuddered and moaned. “Hm~ t-there!” he said huskily. Matt couldn’t wait anymore. Matt picked Canada up, and put him on his lap. Canada wrapped his legs around Matt’s waist, and felt Matt’s hot dick pressing against his entrance. He shuddered in anticipation, feeling that Matt was big. He steadied himself by holding the taller man’s shoulder, while Matt held his hips. 

“Ready?” Matt asked gently, kissing Canada’s cheek. He nodded, and Matt pressed his dick against Canada’s entrance, entering him slowly. Canada breathed slowly, the pain of being stretched to such an extent slowly fading away as he got used to it. He nodded shakily to Matt, who slowly lifted Canada, before bringing him down and thrusting him. Canada moaned loudly, urging Matt to give him more. 

Matt started a fast steady rhythm. He tried to aim for that spot again, but the pleasure was driving him insane and he couldn’t concentrate on his task properly. However, Canada let out a strangled moan, and wrapped his arms around Matt’s shoulders tightly. “There! Matt, oh fuck, harder!” he screamed. Matt grabbed Canada’s hips tightly and augmented his speed. Canada kept on gasping and moaning. “Matt! I-I-AH-I’m go-gon-n-na cum!” Canada moaned loudly, eyes glazed over with intense pleasure. 

Matt panted, and sucked onto Canada’s neck, before leaning down a little and sucking on his nipples. “Ah! Matt! Ah! I-If you do that-AH! I’ll g-g-go insane!” Canada screamed arching his back. Matt kissed Canada’s cheek lightly.

“Cum, Mattie.” He said gently, rubbing Canada’s cock in rhythm to his pace. Canada yelled out in pleasure and arched his back, spurting cum onto their stomachs. Matt was gonna to pull out so not to come inside Canada if he didn’t want him to, but Canada pressed himself down onto Matt’s large cock, and rolled his hips when Matt came in him. 

“Ah…Matt…it’s so warm…” Canada whispered, exhausted. Matt kissed Canada on the lips lazily, hugging him tightly. This is what Matt had craved for; to be close to a person he loved and who loved him back. He relished the warmth he received from Canada, and only half-heartedly pulled out of him, laying down under the duvet, arms wrapped around Canada’s small frame lovingly. 

“I love you Mattie…I really do.” Matt whispered into Canada’s hair. Canada smiled and snuggled into Matt’s chest.

“I know…I love you too Matt.” He whispered back. A smile graced Matt’s lips. 

‘Good thing we didn’t have our glasses on…they would have been turned into smithereens.’ Canada chuckled as he fell asleep, and Matt grinned this time, knowing exactly what his short lover was thinking.


	4. 1p!France x 2p!France

France stared at his other self, Jean Luc, in mild disgust. Shabby doesn’t even scrape the adjective to describe him. Disgusting, dirty, rude, unkept, not to mention Asexual, which to France was something against the laws of nature. They were currently at France’s home, simply staring, no…glaring at each other. France forced a smile.

“So, you are Jean Luc-?” 

“Jean. Jean Luc is too fancy.” Jean cut through, not bothering to sound polite. France’s eye twitch in mild irritation.

“Jean then...” he grumbled. The intense glaring continued, the air thick with awkwardness. “What’s your Paris like?” 

“Pretty dull. We’ve got the Eiffel Tower and all, but really it’s just iron. Looks the same as yours, but yours is a lot fancier. Annoying.” Jean answered. France sighed in slight irritation. “You have really weird clothes. How d’you even walk in ‘em?”

“It’s the fashion! I wear what’s fashionable!” France answered, his voice sounding annoyed at Jean’s comment of his clothing. The latter snorted in amusement, lighting a cigarette. “You know those are bad for you, right?” The fancy country asked, not worried, but definitely annoyed.

“I don’t need lectures. I’ve smoked since cigarettes existed, and I’ve been fine.” Jean retorted flatly. 

“Some role model you must’ve been for your Canada. Mathieu was it?” France pointed out, just as flatly. Jean tensed a bit and scowled, inhaling the cigarette’s smoke. He blew the smoke on France, making the latter cough. 

“That, fancy pants, is none of your business.” He growled. A certain aura from him reminded France of an angry Russia, and he shivered. And that was that. France sighed deeply, giving up on trying making a conversation with his other self.

“OK, OK…do you want anything to drink?” France asked, desperate for a reason to get away from Jean. The latter looked at him suspiciously.

“Coffee; as long as it’s not poisoned.” He answered, getting an offended look from France. 

“We do things differently here!” the latter said, raising his voice a little. He walked off to the kitchen to make coffee, grumbling as he did. Jean had both a nasty personality and a nasty look and needed to get his life sorted out, big time. As France put the two cups of coffee with milk on the side on the tray, he wondered why Jean had been so angry at him mentioning Mathieu. He shrugged and carried the tray to the living room. When he noticed Jean wasn’t in the position he had left him, but actually was looking at the photographs on the mantel piece, he put down the tray, and studied the man. He looked somewhat upset and a little distant, and there was something about him that France felt he knew. 

Jean noticed France, and pointed to the photograph he had been looking at. “Is he your Canada?” he asked flatly. France looked to the photograph and smiled fondly; it had been Canada’s birthday, and France, reminding both England and America so that came along, had made a surprised visit along with the two latter countries. Canada had been very happy and it had been a very lovely day. The photograph showed Canada smiling happily as he hugged France, the photo taken by America.

“Oui, it is.” France nodded. Jean looked at the other photographs, which contained photographs of the Allies, France’s old bosses, the Bad Touch trio, and several more pictures. 

“You seem to all get along well…especially with Canada.” Jean commented quietly, though France didn’t miss the strained tone of his voice.

“Well, not particularly. We’ve had our wars together and our arguments…these are just some of the rare times as individual people that we don’t need to fight against each other.” He replied, a little surprised at Jean’s sad look. “But oui, I do get along well with my Canada. How are the relationships between you all at your place?” he asked, hesitating at first. Jean froze, and seemed like he was going to be angry again, but instead he shrugged.

“Nothing in particular. We all hate each other.” The smoker muttered, not particularly paying attention to France. “It’s not like we try to get along either…” he added softly, picking up the photograph of a smiling Canada. “He looks a lot like Mathieu…though Mathieu never smiles…” 

Something clicked inside of France’s mind. The thing that France knew about Jean was simple: deep, deep regret. Something he himself had often felt. His expression softened. “Did you not get along well with him…?” he asked gently. Jean frowned, putting the photograph back down.

“Not really…I just never looked after him. I disregarded him when he was a kid, and was like a parent who doesn’t give a damn about his son. We were never close in the first place, and I never did anything to try and changed that either.” He sighed, breathing in another puff of smoke. “Why am I telling you this anyway?” he grumbled, annoyed at himself for telling something only Mathieu and Oliver knew. The latter had always pestered him about it, but Jean had always ignored him, and one day Oliver just took Mathieu away. France smiled softly.

“Maybe because you need to. Keeping secrets to oneself can harm one’s wellbeing. Especially for us countries.” He answered, receiving a snort.

“Heh, a bit late for the harming part.” Jean commented flatly. France scowled, pouting ever so lightly.

“No it’s not! Come on, let me fix you up! When staying at my place, you shall do how I do things.” He said in a determined voice, grabbing Jean by the wrist and pulling him upstairs. 

“Oi! Let me go!” Jean complained, not liking the fact he was being dragged up the stairs.

~

Jean stared at his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t really know what to say, or what to even think. It definitely wasn’t the old Jean he knew that was looking at him. His skin was smooth, completely shaved, his hair was now clean and cut to a reasonable length, and with the little bit of makeup France had put on his face, he actually looked quite handsome and healthy. He looked up in awe at France, the latter grinning. “See? Not too late. If you start by making yourself look good, then you’ll want to make yourself look good all the time.”

“You do miracles with your makeup thing.” Jean admitted. “Though I doubt I’ll stop smoking any time soon…”

“Ah, come on, stop being so pessimistic. With time you’ll be able to slowly stop smoking. Though it’ll take a very long time…” France laughed, patting Jean’s head in a jokey way. They looked pretty much the same now; just France had his little stubble on his chin and Jean had purple eyes. Jean gave him a sceptical look.

“You’re the one being way too positive.” He muttered. France grinned, taking the mirror from Jean and looking at himself. He did so for a long while, and Jean snorted. “And you’re a narcissist.” He added. The blue eyed man pouted, and put the mirror down. 

“Am not…OK, maybe a little.” He admitted, put his expression turned into a serious one. “Why did you ignore Mathieu when he was a child?” Jean’s expression turned to a sad one, even if it wasn’t noticeable only to France. 

“I…don’t know. I just never learned how to love others I guess…Unlike you.” Jean answered quietly, reaching for his cigarettes, but France took them out of his reach.

“Didn’t anybody ever try to help you?” the latter asked, not wanting the purple eyed nation to smoke. Said nation scowled a little.

“Oliver did. But I ignored him. Oliver and his brothers are too loud and annoying, and they adore each other, so they know how to love, but being an isolated island, no one ever learned from them.” He answered, reaching for his packet of cigarettes, but again, France made it impossible for him to get to them.

“Are you sure you never did anything good to help Mathieu?” He asked. Jean seemed to be getting irritated, but France ignored the chilly aura.

“I…gave him a red shirt…and I taught him survival skills. But I never gave him the love or tenderness he needed and Oliver took him away.” The purple eyed man growled, not liking the subject. “Give me those already!” he raised his voice, leaping forward. France lost his balance and fell backwards unto his bed, as they were in France’s bedroom. France dropped the cigarettes on the floor in the meantime, both of them recovering from the softened fall. Though the blue eyed France recovered first, and grabbed Jean’s shoulders, holding them there.

“Didn’t you notice that Mathieu was wearing a red shirt?” he said gently. Jean froze. 

“W...it was just a shirt! It’s just another object! So what if he kept it?!” he asked, growling. France smiled softly.

“You really are naïve. He obviously kept it because it means something to him.” He answered, gaining a very shocked Jean. The blue eyed France pulled himself and pressed his lips against the purple eyed France. The latter completely froze, and after a minute, pushed France down against the bed.

“W-W-W-W-W-W-What are you doing?!” he shouted, blushing badly. France grinned. Very England like reaction. 

“I believe you need to be taught how to love, non?” he whispered, flipping them round, so that Jean was underneath him. The latter groaned, looking up at him. 

“This isn’t love. This is just a physical thing. Even I know that.” He said flatly, but his breathed hitched when France pecked his lips.

“Non, my friend, it’s real.” The latter whispered gently against Jean’s ear, kissing Jean’s neck, going downwards until his reached the collar bone, nipping at it. Jean shuddered, not used to this gentle contact. France kissed his lips against, pushing down gently, and licking the other’s lips, making the other gasp in surprise, and slipped his tongue into Jean’s mouth, somewhat liking the taste of cigarettes. Jean, on his end, was also enjoying it, pushing himself upwards unto France, acting upon instinct. It was rather new to him, being touched in a loving way. He’d only ever had physical one night stands, so this gentle touching and caring was completely alien to him. 

France pushed his knee against Jean’s forming hardness, making those purple eyes widen. The owner of those eyes moaned loudly into the kiss, pulling away and covering his mouth, shocked at himself for making such a noise. France grinned, happy that his other self was enjoying this as much as he was. 

France moved on to massage Jean through the latter’s jeans, gaining more muffled moans, the man under him shuddering out of pure pleasure. He slowly trailed his fingers upwards under Jean’s purple shirt, rubbing his fingers against the hardened nipples. 

“How does it feel~?” France asked, licking Jean’s collar bone. That made the other blonde moan, not taking his head off his mouth. But France could tell by the other’s glazed eyes that he was enjoying this, and wanted more. 

Therefore France slipped his hand into Jean’s boxers, and stroked the blonde’s length roughly. Jean cried out in pleasure, arching his back, and put his other hand on his mouth, his eyes tight shut. France pulled down his other self’s trousers and boxers, throwing them on the floor. He unbuttoned Jean’s purple shirt, and pulling the latter’s hands from his mouth, kissed him again. 

The purple eyed man melted into the kiss, pushing himself upwards against France. The latter pulled off his own clothes, so that both men were nude on the bed. France started licking his own fingers, but Jean stopped him. 

“Don’t bother.” Jean said, sounding needy but not quite pathetic. France raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, receiving a kick in the ribs. 

“I wouldn’t tell you if I wasn’t sure.” Jean growled. France hissed in pain, and his eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Since you’re being so blunt…” he said darkly, thrusting suddenly into Jean. The latter arched his back, and bit his lip, making it bleed. “Don’t do that.” France ordered, starting to thrust deeply into Jean at steady pace, making the purple eyed man cry out in pain. The blue eyed nation moaned at his other self’s tightness, making him harder than he already was. 

Jean’s cries of pain faded away into cries of pleasure. France took this as a hint that he had hit the spot, and aimed for that area, hitting it most of the time. Jean twitched and moaned loudly at each thrust, clawing at France’s shoulders. France hissed at the sharp sting of the scratches, only making him thrust harder. It was only when Jean started shuddering that France wrapped his hand around the other’s cock. France grunted loudly and came into Jean, the latter soon coming into France’s hand. They stayed in that position until France pulled out of Jean and dropped next to him. Jean snorted in a sort of laughter.

“Ha, you came first.” He commented. France looked at him flatly.

“And?” he asked sceptically.

“Isn’t the one on top supposed to cum first?” Jean teased rolling unto his, facing his other self. Said man, scowled, looking indignant.

“Well, non, actually.” He retorted, obviously embarrassed about the comment. Jean gave a small smirk, and reached for the packet of cigarettes on the floor. France saw that, and pulled Jean into a hug. “Non, mon cher~ No cigarettes for you.” 

“Tsch…annoying fancy pants.” Jean commented in an irritated voice.


	5. 2p!Russia x 1p!Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven’t written in like, an eternity, but y’know…school and stuff. Even if I really wants to be continuing these stories regularly, I’ve gotta get my priorities right! But thank you to everyone who commented/reviewed on this story, and I will make sure to post a new chapter at least once a month, which is doubtful, but I will try! :)

Russia seemed to have second thoughts on his other self, Nikolari. The latter spoke rather quickly, and seemed to rant on about things he wasn’t happy with. He didn’t smile either, and looked depressed. His black coat was rather tattered, and so was his scarf. That didn’t bother Russia much, but it was just the fact that Nikolari was too open about everything. He didn’t pretend anything, and that somewhat made Russia jealous of him. Why couldn’t he do that too? 

“…my boss is so annoying! He thinks he can tell me what to do and expects me to agree on everything with him! I don’t! I have my own opinions and I like to stick to them. He’s such a brat sometimes too-” Nikolari was interrupted of his ranting by Russia.

“You really like saying your opinion don’t you?” Russia asked the other man, walking through the snow. Nikolari snorted in what seemed to be amusement.

“Of course I do. It’s important to tell others your opinion, I think.” He answered. He looked at Russia’s Moscow, full of snow everywhere. “Your home’s really cold…There’s snow everywhere.” He observed. Russia shrugged a little.

“Yes, but that’s normal. Why? What is your home like?” he asked, truly interested in the other’s life. The red eyed Russia sniffed a little in thought.

“Well…I wouldn’t say its warmer. It’s quite similar. But…just different. I can’t really explain it…” he answered, crouching to the snow, and picking up a handful. “Your snow just looks so much more…nicer somehow.”

“How can snow look nicer? Snow is snow.” Russia said, confused at his other self’s words. Nikolari shrugged, and then threw the snow at Russia’s face. The bit of snow hit Russia square in the face, and he just stood there, looking a bit like an idiot as Nikolari laughed. Russia wiped the snow from his face, narrowing his eyes a little. He gave his other self a small mischievous smirk. He looked up, and realised they were standing under an evergreen tree. He kicked the tree and ran away from underneath it, turning round just in time to see Nikolari get buried with an avalanche of snow from the tree. This time Russia laughed a soft innocent laugh. Nikolari was vainly trying to get out of the giant snow pile. As he popped his head out of the pile, hair still covered in snow, he noticed how sweet Russia looked when he laughed. He smiled a small crooked smile, the first one in several weeks. Scratch that; several years. Russia eventually helped him out of the pile of snow when it came obvious that Nikolari wouldn’t actually be able to get out of it alone. At the sight of Nikolari shivering, Russia led him to his house. The house itself wasn’t very much warmer than outside, but once Nikolari had been settled next to the fire with a blanket and a cup of coffee, it was cosy enough. Russia on the other hand, was drinking vodka.

Nikolari looked at the drink greedily. Russia, noticing the look, proposed him some. Nikolari took the bottle from the other Russian, putting his empty mug on the table. He dipped his head backwards, taking a huge gulp of the alcoholic drink. He let out a soft sigh of relief. As the two Russians shared the bottle of vodka, finishing it quite quickly, the alcohol started to addle their minds. Russia didn’t usually get tipsy from this amount of vodka; he usually drank much more before the alcohol actually had any effect on him. Maybe it was because he was sharing it with someone he sort of got along with that he was getting in such a state. He looked at Nikolari, and even through his starting to fog mind, he could see the latter wasn’t affected at all. Russia didn’t understand what was going on, nor did he care. It just felt to have some real company. Company of someone who wasn’t scared of him for once. 

Russia smiled softly. He looked at Nikolari with glazed eyes.

“This is nice…for a change…” Russia said gently, playing with the neck of the empty vodka bottle. Nikolari blinked at him. “The other nations are always scared of me, and never want to be friends with me…even my people are afraid of me…” he added, tears welling up in his eyes. Nikolari blinked again.

“You’ve been really lonely, haven’t you?” he asked, quite bluntly, but interested. His other self nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Why don’t you tell the others how you feel?”

“They won’t come close to me…and I’m scared of what they’ll think of me…” Russia whispered, lowering his head. He said it. He had told someone that he was scared. Was Nikolari going to laugh at him for being a weakling?

“You’re just sorta waiting for everything to happen on its own, aren’t you?” Nikolari pointed out flatly. Russia looked up in drunken confusion. “You’re not trying to get close to the others, nor are you trying to talk to them, even a little. That’s what it seems you’re doing; waiting.” Russia bit his lower lip and frowned.

“I’ve tried getting close to the others…I’ve tried getting close to Lithuania, to Estonia, to Latvia, to big sister and little sister…I’ve tried getting close to others. But I always seem to hurt them somehow…I’ve tried not to, but my boss…my boss never lets me…So what else can I do but wait?” he asked, sounding more and more frustrated with every word.

“So you’ve given up?” 

“What?”

“You’ve given up.”

Purple eyes stared in astonishment at red ones. 

“I…no…I’ve just…” Russia’s voice trailed off, not sure how to answer to such a harsh statement. Has he given up? Russia couldn’t tell to be honest, he’d never thought about it. No, he hadn’t given up. He really did want to become friends with the others, and desperately tried to find new ways to get them to like him, but something always went wrong… “I don’t know…” Russia whispered, eyes tearing up. He doesn’t usually cry, but this is a sensitive subject for him, and Nikolari was just bluntly pointing things out Russia had never even thought about. Russia looked down as the tears started to run down his cheeks. Sheesh, being tipsy always turned him into a softie…

“Hey, hey…don’t cry.” Nikolari soothed, standing up to walk over to Russia. The latter didn’t look up, but hid his face in his hands instead. He jolted in shock when warmth ran through his body. Nikolari had wrapped his arms around him, holding him in a soothing hug. Russia didn’t know how to react, stiffening his body instead. He’d only been used to being attacked, tricked or made fun of, so this simple act of affection was completely alien to him. “Sheesh, you’ve really never been close to anyone have you?” Nikolari asked bluntly, making Russia cringe. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He added, smiling a bit.

“You’re lucky you’ve got your Baltic states that like you.” Russia muttered, not quite accusing the other man, but it sounded a bit like it. Nikolari huffed. Russia huffed back. A long silence stretched out between them. 

“Heh…whatever…I’ve said what I have to say anyw-…” Nikolari started, until he was pushed backwards harshly into his seat. “Hey!” He shouted, his head hurting as he hit it against the armchair. Russia hovered above him, a dark expression on his face. Nikolari scowled, glaring at him. “What the hell d’you think you’re suddenly doing?!” But Russia didn’t answer. Nikolari’s temper started rising, his face reddening a little in his anger. “Oi!” This time, he pushed against Russia’s shoulders, planning on throwing him off. He would have succeeded in doing so, if Russia hadn’t grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the back of the armchair. Nikolari was a little worried now. Russia seemed to be quite the bipolar guy; one second he’s crying, the next he’s has an aura of someone ready to kill.

Nikolari looked up at Russia, and quite almost recoiled at the look he was receiving. Russia was smiling a childish smile, yet it dripped with sadism. Russia’s eyes were open in slits, his purple irises seemingly glowing. 

“Let’s play, da?” he said sickly sweetly, making Nikolari’s face scrunch up in repulsion. Before he could say anything though, Russia placed both his wrists in his left hand, covering Nikolari’s mouth with his right hand. “Shhhhh…be quiet…for now.” He whispered, Nikolari’s red irises glaring at him. 

A sudden pain in his right hand made Russia flinch and frown. Nikolari’s somewhat sharp teeth had been able to bite his hand, blood trickling from it. “Aha~ you are such a bad child. We don’t want any children who can’t play nicely, da?” he said darkly, almost like a growl.

“Tsch, I ain’t a child!” Nikolari growled through the hand he was biting, bringing his knee up into Russia’s stomach. Russia was winded for a moment, and that was enough for Nikolari to twist round and have enough leg space to kick his other self off of him. Russia fell backwards, but steadied himself in time to stop the punch directed at his face. “What the hell…You sure have a contradicting personality, don’t you?” The red eyed Russia asked through gritted teeth. Russia smiled and laughed sweetly.

“But you were talking so cockily to me right then…I found that rude.” He hissed out the last word. Nikolari’s eyes widened for a second, then his expression went to a calm one. 

“You…really are a child.” He said softly, pulling his wrist out of Russia’s slackened grip.

“Huh?” Russia asked, confused. Nikolari observed him quietly, simply staring at a very confused Russia.

“You called me a child, but the way you just acted was exactly one of a child. Well, not a normal child, but a child who doesn’t know the boundaries between good and bad.” He said finally. Russia completely lost it at this point. Not in an angry way, but in a way that his expression just blanked. He didn’t what boundaries Nikolari was talking about. Were there even boundaries for good and bad? “That wimpy looking Lithuania…did you do this to him?” Nikolari asked. Russia frowned.

“No…I did what I was told to do.” He answered.

“So you didn’t force him? Did you just torture him senseless?” Nikolari asked, his voice flat. Russia hissed.

“Shut up…I’m not like that.” He retorted. Nikolari huffed.

“I beg to differ. What you did just now proves the opposite.” He paused. “What about Latvia? And Estonia? Did you also torture them and beat them?” Russia’s scowl deepened.

“Shut up.” He whispered.

“Did you follow orders, or did you just do things based on your will?”

“Shut up…”

“What about your sisters? Did you try anything on them?”

“Shut up!” Russia shouted suddenly, collapsing to his knees. Nikolari just stood there, motionless. Russia trembled, holding his lowered head in his hands, as if in great pain. “I’m not like that…I don’t want to hurt them…I really don’t…I’m not like that…” he said over and over again, his voice shaking. Nikolari was now the one confused.

This guy was completely messed up. Even in his world’s conditions, Nikolari hadn’t met a person like this Russia in front of him. A childlike country, who looks innocent, yet anything can trigger his darker side of his personality, making this what is to be feared of. His personality is the same as a bomb that no one knows when is going to blow up.

Russia kept repeating those words over and over again, until it started to scare Nikolari. “Stop it, Russia.” He said calmly, crouching in front of the now sobbing country, and taking his wrists into his hands. “You’re not helping yourself by saying things like that.” He added. Russia didn’t look up, tears dripping from his eyes onto the carpet.

“I don’t want to make them suffer, I swear. I…I don’t…I don’t want them to be scared of me…” he said quietly. Nikolari was completely out of place. Sure, he was more understanding and maybe a little more mature than his comrades, but affection wasn’t something he was good at. Forget hugging this guy, a mere hug wasn’t going to help him get over years of prison like treatment by his bosses. From what Nikolari could figure out, this trembling man in front of him has always been alone as a child, except from his siblings, who hadn’t seemed to be much help to his upbringing. To solve this, Russia was going to need more than a hug. Nikolari took a deep breath. Should he? Ugh…

“Russia, look at me.” Nikolari urged gently. Russia shook his head stubbornly. “Russia, please.” The please made Russia twitch, as if it was an unknown word. He slowly lifted his head to look at Nikolari. Tear filled purple eyes looked at calm red ones. Those purple eyes quickly widened when the owner of the red eyes pressed his lips against his own. He didn’t know how to react. He just froze.

Nikolari had expected this, and pressed on harder, letting go of Russia’s wrists and taking hold of his shoulders instead, as to deepen the kiss. Russia snapped his eyes shut, blushing a little at this point. He gripped onto Nikolari’s sleeves with shaking hands, unsure of what was happening, and unsure of this warm feeling in both his chest and abdomen. Nikolari stayed gentle, urging Russia to respond to the kiss. 

Russia flinched when he felt a wet tongue press against his lips, and slowly opened his mouth, his lips trembling in something inbetween shock and fear. Nikolari slipped his tongue past pale lips, and urged the other’s tongue to do the same. Slowly, ever so slowly, Russia did as he was urged to do. He opened his eyes a little, a now deep blush upon his usually pale cheeks. Nikolari kept on urging him gently to kiss back, and eventually, Russia was kissing back just as strongly as Nikolari was kissing him in the first place. 

When they finally pulled back from the kiss, Russia was very confused and dazed. Saying that was his first kiss wouldn’t be quite true, but it was definitely the first passionate kissed he’d ever had. Russia had no idea how to react to this at all. It was obvious Nikolari had a better understanding of emotions and things like that than he did, probably another aspect of being Russia’s polar opposite, but seemed to hide those emotions between a straight face. Not that that bothered Russia…not that he cared either, for what Nikolari was doing to him was much more interesting.

The latter had now opened Russia’s coat, and unbuttoned a few of his shirt’s buttons, kissing the pale skin underneath it, and nipping at Russia’s neck and collar bone gently. Russia blushed badly, trembling a little at the soft touches his was receiving. 

For Russia, everything went very fast. Suddenly they were both naked, Nikolari sitting on his lap. The only pieces of clothing they were still wearing were their scarves, and those two objects didn’t really do much to hide the pulsing erections of the two Russians. 

Russia swallowed as he saw Nikolari’s size, which he imagined must be very much of his own size. And…that was pretty big. Remember the condom thing with America?

“Don’t look so worried. I’m not exactly of the giving sort.” Nikolari said flatly. Russia blinked in confusion, but before he could ask what the red eyed man meant, three fingers were pushed into his mouth. He made a muffled sound of surprise, but taking the hint, started sucking on Nikolari’s fingers. When Nikolari judged them to be wet enough, he pulled them out.

It was only when Russia saw Nikolari prepping himself did he understand what Nikolari meant. Russia’s eyes looked at Nikolari’s face, seeing the embarrassed expression there. He did look cute. Not that Russia would say that out loud. The other Russia didn’t seem the type of enjoy being called cute. But then again, if Russia himself didn’t like it, then maybe Nikolari did. 

All thoughts of cute or not cute were pretty much kicked out of his mind when he saw (And felt) Nikolari lower himself onto Russia’s dick. The light haired Russia moaned softly, while the brunette bit his lip to keep from making too many loud noises, even though Russia could still hear him whining at the back of his throat. When Nikolari had pushed himself all the way down, he steadied himself by placing his hands on Russia’s shoulders, and slowly lifted himself up again before lowering himself down.

This carried on for a little while, with Russia desperately trying to restrain himself from thrusting uncontrollably into the other Russian. He wanted to savour this. The warmth he felt, both around him, and inside himself. This person that looked almost identical to him, and who had at the same time a horrid and endearing character, was the first person who willingly went as far as to have sex with him. However, the moment Nikolari shuddered from having his prostate rubbed by Russia’s dick, all ideas of restraint were forgotten, and he put his hands on Nikolari’s hips, and pushed upwards.

Nikolari yelped in both shock and pleasure. Oh it felt so good, and it didn’t stop there. Russia kept thrusting into him with much vigour, so much that he felt himself soon coming close to tipping over the edge. He wrapped his arms tightly around Russia’s shoulders, and bit into one of them, both to mark Russia, and to keep himself quiet. 

Russia groaned from the sting he felt in his shoulder, but that only fuelled him to go faster, deeper and harder. He, too, soon felt himself tipping over the edge.

The sole warning Russia received from Nikolari was an intensified moan, and he felt Nikolari’s cum splatter over his abdomen. The sudden tightness around his dick made Russia lose it completely, and with one final thrust, he came into Nikolari’s heat.

Completely spent, both Russians gasped and panted for much needed air. Nikolari looked down at Russia. He smiled sweetly. 

“Enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he teased mildly, poking at Russia’s cheek playfully. Russia blushed, and he puffed his cheeks out a little. “Don’t deny it~” Nikolari teased further. Russia didn’t say anything. It’s not like he could deny it. It had felt amazing. So in response to Nikolari’s pretty much already answered question, he pecked his lips. 

“Da, I liked it. Very much.” He murmured softly. That was an understatement, but it’s not like Nikolari didn’t realise that it meant so much more to Russia than he said it did. Nikolari smiled.

“So, you planning on staying inside of me the rest of the day or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven’t written in like, an eternity, but y’know…school and stuff. Even if I really wants to be continuing these stories regularly, I’ve gotta get my priorities right! But thank you to everyone who commented/reviewed on this story, and I will make sure to post a new chapter at least once a month, which is doubtful, but I will try! :)


	6. 2p!Spain x 1p!Spain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who asked, the reason the username changed from ‘Grimmijaggers’ to ‘CRMGrimmi’ is because the old admin, Clara, decided to stop writing yaoi fanfics for personal reasons. So I’m the new admin, hi to all, my name’s Alix. I really liked Clara’s username so I chose a similar one. I write the yaoi stuff and Clara writes the others, like ‘History is Now’ or ‘Wait you’re called Indigo?’ sort of things. So we share an account. Clara gives me ideas on what to write and I try to keep the writing style as close to hers as I can. So….  
> I am SO sorry for how slow these chapters are going. But I really just don’t have the time to write them, and finding different types of personalities for the 2p characters takes a lot of time. Obviously there are different interpretations of all the 2p countries, and I can’t please everybody. I tend to choose either the most popular or common versions, or I mix them up, so if you’re unhappy about one version of the 2ps, well don’t blame me; I’m trying my best here.   
> Anyway, sorry for the inconveniences. On with the story! *drumroll*

It was a good thing that Spain was a happy go lucky sort of guy who couldn’t read the atmosphere otherwise he would’ve ran for the hills by now. His other self was sombre and stoic in looks, scars littered over his face and forearms, from what skin was visible. Long brown hair tied in a low pony tail with a purple ribbon, yellow eyes and a rejecting aura around him, as if he wanted everybody to just go away and he was getting that fact very clearly through to everybody else except for one guy.

“Spain~! That was weird, calling somebody else by your own name, especially when you’ve never shared it with anybody else; but then again as countries we only have one unique name so finding somebody with the same name is unimaginable, but if it did happen the bosses would probably get angry at having the same names, don’t you think~?” 

That guy. Spain. Or his other self anyway. 

“But it’s gonna be confusing to call each other Spain, isn’t it? Should we call each other by our human names? Mine’s Antonio, what’s yours?”

Just…too fucking friendly.

“Andres.” Came the short answer from the unfriendly Spaniard.

“Andres huh? That’s a cool name! I remember this one guy, in the 1700s called Andres and he-” Did he ever stop talking? And when was he going to go away? Dammit he spoke more than Romano; his Romano that is. This Spain’s Romano seemed like a coward.

“D’you ever shut up?” Andres asked gruffly, the other Spaniard blinked with his goofy smile. He laughed and shook his head.

“Hardly! Only when I’ve gotta really. There’s just too much to talk about and say! Having conversations with people is the best way to create bonds and friendships.” Spain explained, as if that was an actual fact. Well, it sorta was, Andres thought. Not that he could or wanted to comment on that. He was a loner after all, and people irritated him to an extent that not even Al found acceptable. “Andres, what’s your world like?” Spain asked suddenly.

“Same as this one.” Andres shrugged. It was the same, but a lot more peaceful compared to his world. “Less of a war zone.” That comment took Spain by surprise.

“War zone, really? I heard from Oliver that your world was super corrupted, but I wouldn’t think you’d call it a war zone.” He said. Andres shrugged. He had followed the Italy brothers when Al and Mathieu had found a way to get into this world Oliver had been sucked into during a meeting, because Romano, or Flavio, had been really annoying about it. He now wanted to go home, but he couldn’t shake off this other self of his that was really starting to piss him off. “Come on, come on, I’ll show you round! My home is super loved, especially during summer by tourists, so I’m sure you’ll like it!”

“Don’t wanna.” He grunted, anger rising. He didn’t want to be dragged around fucking irritating all too happy looking places by this all too happy looking Spain and his annoying voice. Said man laughed all the same.

“C’mon, don’t be a kill joy!” Spain said, literally dragging Andres away from the other countries meeting their counterparts. Before Andres could shake him off and growl to Flavio and his brother that he was going home, Spain had already giddily taken him outside. Man this guy wasn’t weak and that pissed Andres even more. 

“I said I don’t wanna go!” Andres growled deeply. Spain pouted before smiling again.

“Fine. Come stay over at my estate then if you don’t wanna go see Madrid. It’s a nice quiet place and the garden is lovely during this weather!” The weather was nice. It was sunny but not scorching hot like the Spanish weather was often known for. Seeing how Spain wasn’t going to leave him alone until he went somewhere with him, Andres grudgingly shuffled his feet behind the cheerful man. How can that stupid guy be so fucking happy all the fucking time? And why the fuck wasn’t he fucking intimidated by now? It annoyed Andres the more he thought about it, so he stuffed his hands into his pockets until they arrived at Spain’s personal home. It was very nice. But he wasn’t about to admit that anytime soon. “The way to the garden’s that way! You sure you don’t wanna go visit my Madrid?” he asked, a small tone of urging in his voice.

Goddamit you happy go lucky freak, I said ‘no’! Andres’ anger levels were steadily rising and if he didn’t get away from the Spaniard soon he was going to blow, and that wouldn’t be a nice scene. Not that he cared really. He went to the back garden, as Spain had shown him and glanced around. The grass was lush green, and there were different native plants around the garden. It was well organised and very colourful, but not overwhelming colourful. The sunshine was also adding a shine or sparkle effect to the almost too perfect grass. Andres leant down to touch it. Soft. How could grass be this green and soft?

He leant up again and walked towards the stylish yet simple wooden garden table. He sat down, and looked up to the sky, closing his eyes. This…was sorta relaxing. Not that he’d say it out loud. 

“You seem to like it out here, huh?” Spain came out. Andres snapped his eyes open and glared at Spain. It went unnoticed by the latter.

“Not really. Just tired.” He grunted. Spain raised his eyebrows, showing he didn’t believe what he’d just said. He sat down on the chair the opposite side of the small garden table. 

“That tree there produces the best oranges~ ” Spain said this while motioning to a tree in the corner of the garden. The tree was rid of oranges by now, the harvest time for Seville Oranges long over, but the flower buds showed that it was still producing fruit. Spain was obviously proud of it, and while Andres wasn’t going to say it, he liked oranges. He nodded to show that he understood. They sat in a short silence before laughs from some way off gained both of the Spains’ attentions. It was from quite a bit away, but they could both perceive young children, around four or five running around with their mothers watching over them. 

“This area is great for walks, so it’s pretty common to have families walk round here if they don’t want to go to the city.” Spain explain, a fond smile appearing when the children ran to their mothers. “Hah~ Romano was so cute when he was little; still is cute. What’s your Romano like?” Spain asked, Andres stared at the children.

“Flamboyant. Over confident.” He said shortly. He was close to Flavio. More like the latter obsessed over him. Spain blinked in thought.

“Was he the one with really blonde and curly hair?” 

A nod confirmed this. 

“Woah…Our Romanos are so different.” He commented, almost sounding in awe. Andres wasn’t listening, he was staring at the children. His thoughts drifted from the present time to the years where he looked after Flavio, and his thoughts slowly turned dark and disturbing…

Aw shit! Andres rubbed his face with his hand. He needed to stop doing that. Believe it or not, Andres had something of a paedophilic streak of which he wasn’t proud of; but that didn’t mean he suffocated certain urges. He only targeted nations, usually the young or weak ones.

“Andres, you ok there?” Spain asked, concern or curiosity, or maybe both hinted in his voice. Andres’ anger rose again. He wasn’t sure why this time, but he knew it was because of his certain unnecessary urges. 

“M’fine.” He grumbled. He took the situation into account. Here he was, drinking soft drinks with a country that was his opposite of which he knew nothing about while getting the urge to do horrid things to young nations. He sighed heavily, calming his nerves a little.

“You don’t look fine to me.” Spain said. Andres noticed how Spain’s voice was considerably close to him, and glancing up, Spain was completely intruding his personal space. He pushed on Spain’s shoulder to make him go away. 

“Too close, idiot.” He hissed, anger made clear. This time it did go noticed by Spain who showed his surprise. 

“Do you not like children?” Tsch, the total opposite, dammit, concerning nations anyway. “Is that it?”

“No.” Andres responded flatly. He slid into his seat more, a scowl settling on his stoic expression. His irritation was bubbling in his veins, and if he didn’t have some sort of let out soon, he was going to stab something with his trusty knife in his pocket. Don’t ask why he has a sharp knife in his pocket he just does. Spain looked worried, but obviously still in a good mood. Damn his good mood. “What makes you angry?”

“Huh? Angry? Well…not much really. Not anymore anyway. I used to get very angry in the past, especially when I had an empire. At the time anything that didn’t go my way angered me.” Spain thought out loud, resting his chin on his hand. “I can’t name anything now that’d anger me to an extent that I’d look for a fight.” Andres stood up, looking down at Spain. 

“Then what disgusts you? To the extent you’d look for a fight?” He needed a fight. He wanted to and he was going to. Spain’s innocent green eyes looked thoughtfully at Andres.

“Hm…I guess…things that mean forcing people to do things they don’t want to do…” he said, oblivious to Andres’ thoughts. The yellow eyed man pushed Spain back onto his seat with some force. Confused green orbs looks at dark yellow ones; Spain knew that look and he didn’t like it.

“Paedophilia? Rape? Slavery? Stuff like that?” Andres’ voice was dark and lined with anger. Spain wasn’t sure if it was because of him or some other random reason, but it seemed that his counterpart was the short tempered type of guy, but the short tempered personality that kept it hidden until he was about to crack.

“Well…yeah. Those things are all wrong, even if people do it…” Slavery was a huge guilt of Spain’s. It made him disgusted of his past self when he thought of it. But he couldn’t be thinking about that now, not when Andres was clenching his shoulder in a bruising hold. “Andres, what’re you trying to get to?” he asked, his carefree trait replaced by a more serious one. Andres said nothing, instead leaning down more to Spain’s level. 

“If you’re my counterpart you gotta be the country of passion or something fluffy like that.” He commented, his face close to Spain’s. Even if he hated people in general and especially hated to be close to them, there’re only two times he’s willing to be close to somebody else; fighting or sex. Usually the former and occasionally the latter. He was aggressive during both so to him fighting and sex weren’t so different. But to Spain, he seemed to be the opposite. Passionate in sex and serious in fighting, doing the latter only if he absolutely had to; or if he even could, to be honest. The similar observation went through Spain’s mind as he saw how dangerous and predatory looking Andres’ eyes were becoming. 

In the spur of the moment, Spain brought his knee up in a quick movement to collide with Andres’ stomach, but Andres stopped him before it did, so Spain flung a kick to his shin. This time it did collide, and threw Andres slightly off balance, giving Spain the quarter of a millisecond to push Andres away and pin him to the ground with his right knee on the yellow eyed man’s chest to keep him there. Andres wasted no time in twisting his body and giving a well-aimed kick to Spain’s back, returning the favour of throwing him off balance by pushing him in turn onto the ground, his forearm pinning Spain to the ground by the neck non too gently. Spain choked. He was out of practice afterall; he didn’t need to brawl like this as much as he used to. He clawed at Andres’ forearms, green eyes darkening as a certain form of determination settled in the atmosphere. It seemed that riling his counterpart up brought some kind of satisfaction to Andres. His piercing eyes took in the sight. A choking Spain beneath him. It was weird that at that moment he thought that Spain was actually hot. Not because of the situation but because Spain looked way too much like him. But Andres didn’t give a damn as he lowered his body to nip at Spain’s lips. Spain let out a choked squeak of surprise and Andres lifted some of the pressure from his throat to not suffocate the man. The green eyed man coughed a little before he managed to breathe. He ground his teeth together, trying to push Andres off, but the latter only kept him on the ground. Spain wasn’t weak, Andres couldn’t deny that, and it was a struggle to keep him place, but he wasn’t about to back out of this opportunity.

“Spain…Antonio. I’m not a nice guy.” He whispered into Spain’s face, Spain breathing heavily from his pointless struggle. “I do everything you wouldn’t dare to do.” That was a loaded comment. A lot of things popped up in Spain’s mind. He knew he should be wary of this man that could easily choke him, he knew that at the beginning already, seeing how Oliver was, but hadn’t thought about it in much depth. Nor could he now, when he was at the mercy of the long haired country. He had stopped struggling now. “Here or inside.” The hoarse whisper took him by shock. For a man of few words, Andres definitely knew how to word his sentences in a way the person he was speaking to could practically read his thoughts. At this point, Spain would’ve struggled more and usually succeeded, but those three words threatened him that if he struggled he wouldn’t get out of this lightly. He bit his lip, feeling the slight sting from when Andres nipped it.

“Inside.” He murmured. Not like he had much choice. Maybe he could find a way to stop the man and calm him down. Andres was obviously doing this out of anger. 

Hearing the response, Andres grabbed the front of Spain’s clothing and pulled him up along with him, dragging him to the house. Spain was shocked at the sheer strength of the man and he couldn’t fight against it as he was viciously thrown against a wall as soon as they entered the house. Andres was on him the second his back collided with the wall, teeth tugging at Spain’s lip while scarred hands hastily took off Spain’s jacket. There was nothing calm or passionate about this; and why would there be? They were two strangers whom one of them had a short temper. It was rough and hasty. Spain flinched as a hand slipped under his shirt and claw at his side. It hurt. 

Rough sex wasn’t something he had ever tried or wanted to. He’d only been with guys a couple of times compared to the many times he had had with girls, and he was still awkward about being on the receiving end. Andres however, didn’t seem bothered by any of that. 

Another nip of his lips made Spain wince and try to pull away. 

“S-Stop that…it hurts.” He whined, avoiding to meet Andres’ gaze. Andres let go of Spain’s lip and narrowed his yellow eyes. It seemed this Spain wasn’t into roughness. Hmph, not like he cared, but something told him that he’d enjoy it more if he accommodated to Spain, which was unusual because he had never thought something like that before. Whatever. He licked Spain’s bruised lips, almost apologetically. A soft moan told Andres he was doing the right thing so next he placed his leg inbetween Spain’s legs and pushed, earning another soft moan.

Spain had his eyes shut, too embarrassed to look at Andres. He was being molested, while not completely unwillingly, against a wall in his own house. While that did turn him on a little, it also embarrassed him. And with a man he didn’t even know. Damn…

His breath hitched and he opened his eyes a little when his shirt was pushed up enough to reveal his chest. Andres wasted no time to licking and nipping at the soft skin. Spain was fit and hot; Andres wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip. He wanted to hear the happy go lucky voice scream, he wanted to see his counterpart squirm, he wanted to completely mess him up. These thoughts were sent through to Spain by his next actions, consisting of rubbing Spain’s clothed dick with his knee as well as pinching both his nipples while licking his collarbone. A groan escaped Spain’s voice. 

“N-Not here…at least in the bedroom…” Spain squeaked out. The door was open near them and people would be able to hear him outside if he made a noise louder than a loud moan, which seeing in which direction Andres wanted to go, would not be possible to keep at that low a tempo. Andres growled. He bit into Spain’s collarbone, almost as if punishing him for talking. A pained jolt stabbed at Spain and he whined at that. Being beaten wasn’t something he enjoyed. Andres pulled back and this time grabbed Spain’s arm, pulling him through the house until he found the stairs and went up them, a stumbling Spain following behind. Andres had a raging hard on while Spain’s mind was unclear. He opened the first door upstairs, which happened to be Spain’s bedroom. He threw Spain in, the man stumbling to the floor while he locked the door. He then pulled Spain up, pushing him against the wall, his back facing him. The brunette trembled in his hold, probably out of fear, or maybe out of lust. Most likely the former.

Again, Andres felt the need to soothe these fears, and he pressed his body against Spain’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist. The trembling stopped. Good. He didn’t know why he felt bad, a little guilty, for making his counterpart afraid or ask to stop hurting him too much; it had never bothered him before.

Spain turned his head a little, glazed eyes looking at Andres. Fuck that made him even more irresistible. Apparently Andres’ look in his eyes gave Spain the same sort of reaction. 

He didn’t understand why he was so turned on by this. Spain hissed lightly as his hip was clawed by a scarred hand, pushing his trousers and boxers down. Being pushed up against the wall shouldn’t turn him on like this, but it did and he couldn’t explain why. His breath hitched as Andres wrapped a hand around his half hard dick. His hips twitched and he moaned when Andres started pumping him slowly. 

Andres wanted to be aggressive, but with the thought that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it if Spain didn’t soothed him just a little to go slow first. He could build this up to a way Spain would enjoy it if he didn’t lose it. He placed three fingers in front of Spain’s bruised lips.

Spain slowly opened his mouth, letting the fingers slip into his mouth and play with his tongue. He panted, Andres pumping his dick with more urgency now. Soon drool was dripping down his chin and Andres’ fingers were dripping wet. Andres pulled his fingers out of Spain’s mouth and didn’t wait to push his middle finger into Spain’s rear. Spain hissed, eyes widening a little. He leant his head against the wall, letting out a whine when Andres pushed in a second finger.

“Antonio, relax.” Andres’ voice breathed hot air onto Spain’s neck and ear, and he shuddered at the feeling. That made him relax a little, making it easier for Andres to prepare him. He pushed a third finger it, stretching Spain best he could. The latter was concentrating in frustration on how Andres had stopped pumping him, his cock leaking precum. He needed release, he needed now.

Spain let out a cry when Andres curled his fingers. His whole body trembled as Andres hit his prostate, eyes wide. He clawed at the wall, to which Andres responded by taking his fingers out. Andres looked at the sight. Spain had a fine ass and the desperate look in his eyes almost made Andres lose it. 

“Andres…If you’re going to do it then do it already…” Spain panted out with his legs shaking like a new born lamb’s. That’s all Andres needed to take out his own hard on from his pants (he couldn’t remember when he unbuttoned his top to reveal his chest, but he didn’t care) and push, with some self-control, into Spain. The latter let out a pained cry, the sudden stretched not being something he was used to. “W-ah! Please, wait, Andres.” He whined, his body trembling. He couldn’t turn his head at this point, his body feeling heavy. 

Andres growled at that. He wanted to fuck Spain into the wall, but he didn’t want to make it too painful. He busied himself with pulling Spain’s shoes, socks and pants completely off, leaving the articles of clothing in a messy pile on the floor. Spain’s breathing evened out, and he gave a heavy and sluggish nod. Andres set a slow pace, looking at Spain’s reaction. 

His expression told Andres it wasn’t enough, but he could hardly see Spain’s face. Not good enough.

He pulled out and turned him round, to which Spain let out a shocked yelp. Andres pushed Spain’s back up the wall again, lifting him up so to wrap Spain’s legs around his waist. Spain’s glazed eyes widened at the new position. Andres saw that look, and he felt guilty. He hated that feeling and the urge to make Spain enjoy this completely suppressed his urge to hurt him. 

Chapped lips pressed against soft ones as he entered Spain again. The latter relaxed at the kiss. Having nothing to grab hold of, he wrapped his arms Andres’ shoulders. The kiss lasted a long time before Andres pulled away. Spain looked up at Andres’s yellow eyes. Again, he nodded. Andres thrusted into him slowly, before quickening the pace. Spain’s moans became louder the deeper and faster he went. But it wasn’t enough. Spain panted heavily, eyes half lidded.

“M-More…Andres…Mo-o-ore!” he cried as Andres hit his prostate. The latter’s breath was becoming hurried and heavy, and Spain’s cry made him comply to his request. Spain tilted his head back , moans and cries escaping his throat as green eyes widened at the pleasure coursing through his body over and over again. It was too much; it was incredible and the feeling was taking over him all too quickly. His erection was painful and he needed release. Andres was close too, the sight of Spain losing himself in the pleasure going straight to his dick. The tanned neck being so exposed like that was too much of a temptation and Andres nipped at it, earning a guttural moan from Spain. “A-ah-ndres-! I ne-ee-ed ahn!” His cries were ignored. Andres knew what he was trying to say, but he wasn’t going to touch him where he needed it. 

Instead he gripped Spain’s jaw and kissed him heatedly. Spain forgot to breathe through his nose at that moment and the kiss was suffocating him in the most addictive way. The lack of oxygen made him light headed and his body all the more sensitive. His eyes rolled up as he let a choked cry that was swallowed by Andres’ mouth when he came. The jolts produced by his whole body tipped Andres over the edge and with a grunt he came hard into his counterpart. 

Andres broke the kiss, and he leant his head on Spain’s shoulder, panting. He felt Spain slump, and he had to catch him if he didn’t want them both to fall to the ground. He noticed that the Spaniard had lost consciousness from the lack of oxygen and overwhelming pleasure. Satisfied with the outcome, Andres pulled out of Spain and carried him to the bed. It was only early afternoon, but a siesta was needed. It took no time at all for Andres to fall asleep, arms wrapped around Spain possessively. 

~

Spain woke up, in the very early morning. He felt relaxed. The room smelled heavily of sex and sweat, but that didn’t bother him as much as it probably should. He was sleeping against something hard, and he realised it was Andres’ tanned chest, a tone darker than his own tanned skin. The man had his arms wrapped around him tightly, and he could see no way out. Memories of the last day rushed back and Spain smirked, a chuckle rising in his throat.

Andres woke up to the sounds of quiet chuckling. 

“Why’re you laughing?” he inquired grumpily. Not a morning person. Spain smiled sweetly to Andres, the latter taken back from the expression. He would’ve thought that Spain would be more afraid of him after last night, or at least wary.

“You were holding back at first, weren’t you?” Spain chuckled. Andres cringed at that, evading his gaze. Spain laughed again, realising he still had his shirt on. Never mind. He wrapped his arms around Andres’ chest, trying to stifle his laughter. “You’re surprisingly cute.” A pout formed on Andres’ lips.

“Am not.” He grumbled, but he didn’t let go of Spain. The latter chuckled and struggled a little out of Andres’ arms before shakingly standing up. He turned to Andres, still on the bed, and held out his hand. 

“Come on; we seriously need to have a shower.” He said cheerfully. What the hell? What is it with this overly optimistic guy? Andres reached out to Spain’s hand and his counterpart pulled him up. Spain kept on holding his hand. Andres frowned. Really he didn’t get it. Spain saw the scowl and seemed to understand what was going through Andres’ mind for he gave him a kiss on the cheek. The yellow eyed man couldn’t react to that at all. “You’ve got anger issues, but you still made it enjoyable for me. More than enjoyable actually, I passed out!” That still didn’t justify Andres, he didn’t think, but apparently his counterpart did, so whatever.

“Hmph. I’ll cook you breakfast.” He muttered. Spain practically glowed.

“You like cooking?” he said happily, leading the way to the bathroom. Andres nodded.

“It’s a hobby.” He added. Learning about the other person secondly to having mind blowing sex maybe wasn’t the norm, but they weren’t exactly a pair of ‘norm’ people, so neither cared of that minute detail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is satisfactory for now~ Next chapter: Romanocest.  
> If there are any pairings you want to see, please tell me. But only one chapter per pairing. Otherwise this will literally never end. Also, spamming me with ‘have you stopped writing’ , ‘are you dead’ and ‘omg update already’ messages won’t make me write quicker, but merely make me aware of how desperate people are XP sorry guys. Thanks for reading~


	7. 2p!Prussia x 1p!Prussia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry! I hadn't posted this chapter here, but I had thought I had! :( I guess cause I have this chapter on several websites I forgot to post it here!   
> Thank you to A-Nony-Moose for having reminding me!  
> Again, I'm sorry ;~; OTL

Seriously not awesome, was the first thing Prussia thought when he saw his other self. Heck, he hadn’t even noticed him. The guy was so quiet and serious looking, that he only became an invisible presence next to the other countries. The one thing that probably made him stand out was that he had an automail arm. His left arm was completely made out of metal, but he was able to move it as if it was an ordinary arm, which had fascinated the red eyed country for about as long as a toddler is fascinated that two magnetic objects attract each other (so about two seconds).

Since it seemed that the other world countries wanted to check out this world, so Prussia didn’t have much choice than to let the other albino tag along. He had hoped that West would have stayed with him, but he and the other West had gone to a bar. Prussia would have liked to go to a bar too, but West had said that it would be a good idea to get along with and learn more about his other self. Just an excuse to pay less, Prussia had thought grudgingly in his mind.

They were currently walking through the streets of Berlin. It was dark outside already, even if it was only eight in the evening. Prussia glanced to the man next to him, looking at the man’s clothing. Surprisingly, he wore the old Teutonic Knight uniform Prussia used to wear before he became Prussia, so basically, when he was a kid. His left automail arm was covered by the cape, and the albino’s long hair was tied in a messy pointy tail. Some of his hair covered the scars on his face, which Prussia guessed were from past battles. Not cool…who stays in the clothing of the past? The guy looked as if he was attending a Halloween party as a ghost or something.

They walked in an awkward silence. Prussia racked his brains for a good conversation starter. He didn’t know the guy’s name, so maybe that was a good way to start.

“So … What’s your name?” the ex-country asked. His messy counterpart looked at him for an instant, then back in front of him.

“Akbar Wolfgang Amsel.” He answered quietly, voice flat. Prussia had to strain his hearing to actually hear what the guy had said. 

“Akbar, eh?” he mumbled. Wolfgang, like the musician, was quite German. But Akbar and Amsel didn’t seem very German-like. Maybe the names originalities were different in their universe. “And…you represent the East of Germany?” Akbar frowned and stopped, blinking in confusion. He shook his head.

“No. I represent Prussia.” He said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. It was Prussia’s turn to be confused. How did that work out? Prussia had dissolved, so he couldn’t possibly represent Prussia.

“Wait, you mean-” he was cut off when a bunch of drunken men came out of a pub, laughing, swearing and shouting loudly. Prussia almost burst out laughing. Drunk, at eight in the evening? Pretty pathetic. One of the men noticed the two albinos, and said something in a broken German that even Prussia couldn’t understand due to it making no sense whatsoever. 

“Hey, hey! Albino twins!” The man laughed out. Prussia crossed his arms, and leant on one of his legs. “What’s with the clothing?!” he laughed, his fellow drunk men laughing with him. Prussia knew that seeing a guy in a blue army uniform and another guy in a Teutonic uniform on Saturday evening wasn’t the most common thing ever. Prussia didn’t want to waste time talking to a bunch of drunk men, so he merely shrugged, and motioned to Akbar to follow him. However, he was stopped when he hand grabbed his forearm. “Oi! I’m talking to you!” the drunken man said, voice starting to get angry.

“And I heard you, but I’m not answering you. Now let go of me.” Prussia said, disinterest obvious in his voice, so much that it even broke through the drunken wall of the man’s attitude.

“Tsch! Brats like you need to be educated when speaking to other people!” he growled, motioning to the others to come approach them. Even if he was an awesome guy, Prussia thought to himself, there was no way that Prussia wanted to fight with a bunch of wasted men. However, he was a little annoyed at how the guy had talked to him.

“Excuse you, but I am not brat!” He shouted, grabbing the wrist that he was holding his own, and pulling the man forward. Prussia turned his body so that the man fell onto his back, and with a quick movement of his hip, he stepped forward and bent down, throwing the man forward in a basic judo move. The man gasped in shock at feeling the hard pavement smash against his back, and his grip on Prussia’s wrist loosened. Prussia stood up straight, not only be met with two of the man’s friends to run up to him, fists at the ready to knock the albino out. Prussia didn’t waste any time to dodge the two clumsy attacks, letting them both fall over as they missed their target and fell on top of the winded man on the floor.

“You bastard!” Another shouted, however, this time tripping before he could reach the man in the blue uniform. The latter saw that the reason for this was that Akbar had stuck his leg out in front of him. Prussia laughed at this, but soon stopped as the three behind got up, and started throwing untimed and random punches at both of them, the man Akbar had tripped finally getting up with the last friend’s help. Five against two would’ve usually been a disadvantage to the minority, however, the two albinos were centuries older, much more experienced and actually sober, compared to the twenty year olds, clumsy and stoned men.

Prussia hadn’t noticed, though, that at one point in the fight, one of the men took out a knife, and was currently lashing at Akbar, although he was missing every time. Prussia noticed this when two of the men pounced on Akbar when he wasn’t expecting it, grabbing both of his arms. Akbar didn’t seem fazed, and threw the man that was holding his automail arm off him with ease. But the man with the knife had already started swinging his knife down to strike the messy haired man. Prussia’s body moved on his own as put himself inbetween the knife and Akbar, catching the sharp edge of the knife in his hand before it pierce his windpipe. 

Crimson liquid dripped from his hand as he struggled to keep the man from stabbing him. Instead the pain pulled away, slicing Prussia’s hand open. The albino clenched his jaw in pain. Just because he had been in many battles before, it didn’t mean he could ever get used to the pain. He noticed too late a kick aimed for his head. But the kick never reached him as a flash of white made the man collapsed against a nearby wall. 

Prussia realised that Akbar had punched the man. He saw the other man holding Akbar’s arm bleeding from his nose, piled on top of the previously thrown man. The last two men trembled in fear at the sight of their friends’ states, and ran away screaming. The two albinos deadpanned and looked at each other, until Prussia burst out laughing. Akbar only gave a ghost of a smile, which was soon replaced with a displease expression when Prussia hissed in pain.

“There was no need for you to do that.” Akbar stated, gaining Prussia’s attention. “I would have protected myself with my left hand, and not get hurt. There was no need for you to sacrifice yourself.” He added, moving his automail hand to Prussia to grab the wrist of the wounded hand to see how bad the damage was. Prussia flinched at the feeling of cold metal on his skin, but pouted.

“You can at least thank the awesome me for saving your ass…” he muttered, a little like a child who has been refused a cookie. “…but also thanks for finishing them off, even if I would have been able to deal with them.” Akbar looked up from the bleeding hand, with a emotionless expression.

“You were about to gain a broken nose and a black eye from a round-the-house kick. I don’t think you could have protected yourself.” He said with his voice rid of emotion. “But I do thank you for thinking of protecting me.” He added; a small glint of gratitude in his red eyes. Prussia was about to answer before he heard a light, cute chirping. A small black bird poked its head out of Akbar’s hood.

“Why do you have a bird in your hood?” Prussia asked sceptically. Akbar let go of Prussia’s wrist, and took the small black bird in his hands. 

“It’s my bird.” Akbar answered, showing the small creature to Prussia. The bird looked basically the same as Gilbird, only black, with red eyes, and his chirping sounded nicer that Gilbird’s chirping, but Gilbird was still more awesome.

“Ah...Does it have a name?” Prussia asked curiously, not particularly liking the look in the bird’s eyes.

“Not really. I generally end up calling him Gillian though.” Akbar shrugged. Prussia raised an eyebrow in confusion, but pounced back in shock as the bird tried to nip the tip of his nose. “He’s a bit violent.”

“Yeah…I see that…” Prussia mumbled, keeping his distance from the evil looking bird.

“Do you own a bird?” The other albino asked, placing the black bird on his left shoulder, where it started pecking and bit, but since it was the metallic arm, Akbar didn’t feel anything.

“Yeah, the same as yours, just yellow…and not violent. He’s called Gilbird. I left him at home though.” Prussia answered, happily thinking of the little bundle of yellow feathers waiting for him at home.

“Talking about home, we should go to your house. You’re dripping blood everywhere.” Akbar said nonchalantly. Prussia glanced down, and cringed at the small puddle of blood that had been made on the ground. 

“Good idea.” Prussia nodded enthusiastically, keen on cleaning up his wound. He showed the way back to his and West’s home.

~

“Owowowowowowowow!!” Prussia exclaimed in pain as Akbar cleaned his wound with disinfectant. The quiet Prussian said nothing as he cleansed the wound, making sure the cut wasn’t too deep. The skin was obviously cut, and the flesh too, but it wasn’t anything too serious. He put some soothing cream on a large cotton bad, placing it on the small gash. He wrapped the and cotton pad neatly with bandages, securing it all together with a little bit of tape. “Danke…” the noisy albino muttered. Akbar gave a small smile. “Even though you’re messy looking and not awesome like me, you’re pretty good at first aid.”

“Sounds like the best compliment you’d give anybody, so I’ll take that in a good way.” Akbar retorted. Prussia huffed, but didn’t answer back, trying to remember a time when he had complimented somebody, apart from West. Nothing really came to mind, and that was when he remembered something.

“Um…Akbar…” the red eyed ex country said, calling out to the other. His other self looked up from the first aid kit. “When you said that you represented Prussia, what did you mean…?” Akbar raised an eyebrow.

“I meant what I said. I represent the country of Prussia.” He explained, a little confused, but voice still collected. The Prussian in the blue uniform stayed still, a small smirk on his lips.

“Is…that so…?” he muttered. He didn’t look at Akbar, causing the latter to feel somewhat concerned the louder albino. Akbar didn’t know if he should ask what was wrong or not, but before he could make a decision, Prussia stood up. “Hey, want a beer?” he asked suddenly, as if robotically. Akbar hesitated and gave a small nod. The red eyed man in the blue uniform messed with some things in the kitchen before taking out a sick pack of beer cans. “Let’s move to the living room.” He suggested. Akbar said nothing, just nodded in answer. 

The two albinos went to the large living room and sat down on the leather couch. Prussia took the TV remote, and turned the screen on. The first thing that came up was the news challenge. Prussia deemed it appropriate with a loud ‘My people are awesome because I am, so there can’t be much bad news on tonight!’ Akbar didn’t respond, and only drank from his beer can which the other albino had given to him. The scruffy albino was deep in thought. His neat self had suddenly changed attitude, from relaxed and carefree to somewhat tensed and upset, or something like that. He didn’t know if that was the case or not, but he himself does certain things the other Prussian is doing when he isn’t comfortable with something. Avoid the subject before on can ask about it, get the beer and watch TV. 

After half an hour or so, Prussia muttered something along the lines of ‘I’m hungry’, and asking Akbar if he wanted anything to eat, he made his way to the kitchen. The albino with the automail arm soon got bored of the TV, and glanced around the room. It was a very stylish room, he admitted. This world’s Germany must be very much under control of his older brother to be able to keep in so clean. Or maybe, because both himself and his younger brother are messy, these two sets of brothers are both tidy? He stood up as he thought this, walking round the room and looking at everything.

He noticed a globe at this point. One of those switch on ones, where a light comes from the inside of the globe, usually used in Geography classes. He looked at it curiously, checking if everything was in the same place as his world. America, Canada, United Kingdom, France, Spain, Italy, Ger-… he stopped and frowned. Usually, near Germany and Austria, Prussia is supposed to be shown there. How come it wasn’t…?

“The awesome I is back with some awesome food!” Akbar heard the other man enter the room. The latter came in, two plates of what seemed to be sausages and potatoes. Both platters were steaming, and Akbar smelled an appetizing scent reach him. Prussia put the plates on the table, seemingly ignoring the fact that Akbar wasn’t in his place on the couch anymore, and returned to watching the TV. Akbar walked to the sofa, standing behind the sitting albino. He hesitated.

“Pru-” he started, but the other albino turned round, a huge grin on his face.

“Call me Gilbert.” He said simply. Akbar blinked in surprised. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t called his counter self by his country name at all. This interruption of his confused him greatly.

“…” he hesitated once more. “P…!”

“Nein, Akbar, call me Gilbert.” The albino insisted looking at the TV stubbornly. Akbar started to feel worried. Since he had told the other red eyed man that he was the representation of Prussia, the latter had been acting really weird, and that somehow unsettled Akbar. The latter frowned, and grabbing the TV remote, turned the TV off. His counter self turned round. “Hey!” annoyance showed on his face.

“Why’re you acting weird?” Akbar asked flatly. “Ever since our previous conversation, you’ve been odd. What’s wrong, Prussia?” The other albino bit his lip lightly, before giving an empty smile, lowering his eyes to the back of the sofa.

“I don’t get called that anymore…” he muttered. Akbar raised an eyebrow in confusion. “‘Prussia’ doesn’t exist anymore.” Realisation hit Akbar. The country Prussia had dissolved in this world, unlike his own. “But hey, it doesn’t matter. If we stay stuck in the past, then we’ll never move on. Call me Gilbert, Akbar… please.” He choked out the last word, as if his throat has suddenly tightened, turning his back to the other albino. Akbar frowned, and wrapped an arm around Prussia’s shoulders from the back with his automail arm, pulling Prussia’s head upwards by roughly placing his hand on his throat. The other man gasped in surprise as his head was forced to look up. “Oi!” he snapped angrily. His glare met with Akbar’s emotionless stare.

“You don’t exist? Then why are you still breathing?” Akbar asked seriously.

“The country ‘Prussia’ doesn’t exist! But I exist as Eastern Germany after the Second World War of this universe!” the man on the sofa shouted angrily, struggling against the automail arm on his chest savagely. “Let go!”

“So? The fact you’re alive means there is some trace of the country ‘Prussia’ left, no?” Akbar insisted, not letting go. Prussia tried pull off Akbar’s grip on his chin. “Answer me…” he insisted again, not understanding why the struggling albino didn’t want to talk about it.

“How would you understand?!” Prussia shouted, his voice turned desperate and high pitched at the end. Akbar stared down at blurry red eyes. The silence spread between the two men. “...until you’ve becoming an non-existent country, you can’t understand.” The sitting man choked out, voice trembling. “The…constant empty feeling, which is always…always pulling at your heartstrings…especially…especially when…when you see memories of the past, or, or places you held dear, even…friends are difficult to be with…how…is this something that anybody but I can understand…?” Ruby eyes were glazed over with unshed tears as the words struggled to be said. Akbar’s expression hadn’t change. 

He could never understand the other man’s feelings, even if he wanted to. This pain he tried to explain, isn’t something anybody can understand until they’ve felt lived through it as well. But it sounded horrid. Prussia looked so pitiful, with a frowning expression, baring his teeth at the man above him, yet the supposedly angered expression betrayed by those shimmering ruby red eyes. Akbar lowered his upper body, gently pressing his lips unto the other man’s angry ones. Prussia’s whole body jolted as he felt somebody else’s warm touch him. But he didn’t fight back. He closed his eyes, this movement making his unshed tears drip to the side of his eyes and down his temples. Akbar’s eyes were already closed, and a comforting warmth spread through both of them. 

A gentle hand intertwined itself with Akbar’s hair, tugging it lightly as to loosen it from its hair tie. Akbar’s long unkept hair fell onto his shoulders, lightly tickling Prussia’s cheeks. Akbar’s hand slid from Prussia’s throat to his clothed chest, feeling the cold metal of the man’s cross on his collar as he unbuttoned his jacket. The blue layer of cloth slid off the man’s shoulders, Prussia sliding it off completely. No words were exchanged between the two men, but they both knew what they wanted. They wanted the other’s warmth, and they wanted it now.

Prussia’s clothes starting to feel too tight, and the scorching need to take them off shivered through his body as a hot tongue deepened their kiss even more, intertwining. Akbar pulled away from the other Prussian, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. Prussia’s cheeks were dusted with a light pink, while Akbar’s face was still emotionless.

“U-Um…wha-?” 

“Here or your bedroom?” Akbar asked calmly, no emotion in his voice. Prussia gaped, then jumped backwards, almost risking falling over the table. 

“Wait! Nein, nein! Wie- I mean, we can’t do that! We only met like, an hour ago, and, even if I’ve done these things before, I don’t think we should!” The albino flustered, his loud voice making Akbar’s ears hurt. The other man sighed, and walked to the man in the blue uniform, and grabbed his hips gently, bringing them against his. Prussia’s voice hitched. “…bedroom.” He moaned.

Akbar made a small grunt of agreement, and Prussia guided him to his bedroom. Once they got there and the door was closed, Akbar wrapped his arms around Prussia from the back, kissing his neck softly. The gentle touches made Prussia moan softly, feeling a familiar warm feeling at the pit of his stomach become stronger. He didn’t struggle when Akbar slowly moved them to the bed, and Prussia soon found himself looking up at his counterpart. The serious albino hovered over the other, red eyes gleaming with desire, as well as something else that Prussia couldn’t work out in his current state. Especially when there was a hand running up the inside of his thigh. 

He jolted at the soft touches, his grip on Akbar’s shoulder becoming tighter as he was stripped of all his clothing, except his shirt. The latter was completely unbuttoned, and already sticking to Prussia’s skin with the thin layer of sweat formed on his torso. Crimson eyes lowered as a metal hand laid on their owner’s abdomen. The sudden cold shook Prussia’s body strongly as it slid lower, resting on his inner thigh. Although, curiosity poked at him. 

“A-Akbar…how did you lose your arm?” he asked, voice a little rough. Identical red eyes looked up at his. Akbar seemed to be disturbed by that question, as if unhappy of being asked it. Prussia wondered if he shouldn’t have asked the question at all.

“Can’t remember. A long time ago.” He answered after a long silence. It was a sincere answer, and Akbar seemed to not really care, although that not caring façade could easily be a fake, as it was with a lot of the other countries. All thoughts stopped inside the Prussian’s mind when Akbar’s human hand pressed against his lips. No words were needed, as pale lips accepted in those fingers, a hot tongue licking over them in an almost obscene way. Akbar felt a shudder run down his spine. His louder self’s expression was hot, there was no denying that, and it made Akbar want to make him his all the more. But there was also a need to comfort and love the man under him.

Prussia licked those fingers until they were pulled out of his mouth. Anticipation was added to the hot feeling in his abdomen as he felt one finger gently press into him. It had been a while since he’d done it with anybody, man or woman, and it felt a little weirder than he remembered. A small nod informed Akbar that it was alright to move on. By the time they got to three fingers, Prussia wanted it. Badly. Whether it was right or wrong didn’t bother him right now. He just wanted, needed, it for some reason he couldn’t care less about finding out. 

The moment those pale skinned hips starting bucking onto his fingers, Akbar took said fingers out, a displeased groan being heard from the other albino. 

Since Prussia’s question about Akbar’s arm, no words had been exchanging. Only soft kisses and longing moans and puffs of air, which was enough for both of them to understand the other’s intentions.

No matter how badly he wanted to enter the Prussian, Akbar didn’t want to hurt him. The latter’s reluctance was more than enough to make the ex-country reach out to his bedside drawer. A small bottle of lube was what he was searching for. Once it was found, Prussia poured a generous amount into Akbar’s non-metallic hand, before dropping the now unimportant object to the ground. 

After a couple of hurried strokes to spread the lube around his length, Akbar pulled Prussia onto his lap. They were chest to chest, Akbar having stripped of his clothing a while back. 

Prussia shuddered as he felt Akbar’s hardness against his bare ass, but he knelt all the same, letting the other man position himself in front of his stretched entrance. Both albinos went slow. Prussia slowly lowered himself onto Akbar’s length, feeling it all too much until he was completely sitting on the other’s thighs. It felt different from all the other times he’d had throughout his life. But he didn’t care at this point.

Akbar thrusted his hips upwards, knees bent and resting his back on the headboard. Prussia groaned at the intense feeling scurrying up his spine. His legs trembled, and he had to lean backwards, hands using Akbar’s bent knees as a support to push downwards in time with the other’s upwards thrust.

It wasn’t fast, it wasn’t sloppy nor was it frustrated. It wasn’t like the one night stands he’d had in the past when he needed to vent his anger or frustration. It wasn’t just a way to relieve his sexual desires. Even though those nights had never been particularly common, there were times when the alcohol got too much, and he simply didn’t care anymore. But this was different. It was slow, careful and loving. Akbar was handling him as if he was a precious treasure, something that could break easily or slip inbetween his fingers if he didn’t adore it enough. Prussia couldn’t remember the last time he had been handled with such care. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been treated as something of worth.

Those thoughts made Akbar’s scent all the stronger. Prussia’s shaky arms wrapped around the other’s strong shoulders, burying his head into the crook of his neck. The slow rhythm felt better than the harsh, fast ones he had grown accustomed to. 

Akbar stopped altogether when he felt a dampness on his shoulder. Knowing what it was, he moved their position a little. He was now sitting cross-legged with Prussia clinging onto him, the feeling of dampness on his shoulder being stronger. He wrapped his metallic arm around Prussia’s lower waist, and the other around his upper thorax. He started the gentle rhythm again, gently kissing Prussia’s ear and stroking his hair lovingly.

Prussia’s blurred eyes stayed close as tears slowly escaped his closed lids, landing onto Akbar’s shoulder. Why was he crying again? He didn’t know. He just felt like a lost child that had been reunited with its mother. Even with the odd circumstances of Akbar being his mirror self, Prussia couldn’t help but feel that the world would never be the same without him here. Prussia didn’t want him to leave, didn’t want him go.   
Stay.  
Don’t leave.  
Stay.  
I don’t want to be alone.  
Please.  
Being alone is scary.   
Don’t go.  
Words that never left his trembling lips echoed throughout Akbar’s ears. The feeling and words were mutual. Neither wanted to be alone. Even with the others around them, they had that loneliness of having no one to love. No one to care for and treasure. Things came and went too easily in their lives, and the thing that they both wanted was something, someone, to stay.

“Akbar…” the soft calling of his name made Akbar’s heart jolt. He tightened his hold all the more. Soon, he felt himself nearing his climax, resting his forehead on Prussia’s shoulder like the other albino was. 

“Gilbert…Prussia.” He murmured. Prussia arched his back, pale skin trembling as pleasure coursed through his body. He came while hiding his red face in Akbar’s porcelain white neck, whispering the man’s name over and over as if it was a chant. Akbar gave a small groan, and stopped moving altogether, climaxing inside of Prussia. The two trembled in each other’s hold, slowly coming down from their high. Prussia raised his head first, looking into ruby red eyes which mirrored his own. He leant down and kissed Akbar’s lips, sleep drifting into his mind. Akbar leant backwards, pulling Prussia with him, as well as tugging the covers over their naked bodies. Akbar lay on his side, holding onto Prussia tightly. No words were exchanged, but no words could have described what they felt anyway. Identical smiles lingered on both Prussians’ lips as they fell asleep peacefully. 

Although they really should have cleaned up because Prussia was going to complain about it the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was Prussiacest. ;v;  
> I'm currently working on Romanocest.   
> by the way, I have a veeeeeeeery long list of what pairings to write next about, so the characters like China, Germany and Italy are obviously on the list. So far on the list: Romanocest, Italycest, Lithuaniacest, Japancest, Germanycest, Chinacest, Denmarkcest, Swedencest, Polandcest, Austriacest, Switzerlandcest, Icelandcest and Sealandcest.   
> If there are any pairings that I didn't list that you'd like to see, please tell me :3


	8. 2p!Romano x Romano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I owe you guys a HUGE apology, I didn’t realise how long it was since I last posted a chapter here. So, quick life recap, I’m completely fine, but these last two years, I’ve been in my A level years (which are exams) in England, so long story short I’ve been ridiculously busy and just never got the motivation to write anything (until recently because I’m almost free! No more school, ever!). This has been the same for Mod Grimmi (original user), and I (Mod CRM) have been struggling with not failing school, so…yeah.
> 
> And I kinda lost my love for anime and Hetalia for a bit, but now I’m all good again and I hope you’ll enjoy the story! (Although this story is pretty rough, since it was written over the last year and a half…so it’s…eh.)

Romano was sick and tired of the evil version of himself already, specifically due to the fact that the flamboyant blonde was rummaging through his wardrobe, criticising everything he found.

“I knew from the get go that your taste in fashion was dreadful, but this is just sad.” The blonde Italian pointed out, his face plastered with mocking pity. Romano’s cheeks reddened, angry at the man’s comment.

“Shut up you bastard! What I wear is none of your business damn it!” He snapped, grabbing the shirt his counterpart was currently holding, stuffed it back into his wardrobe and slammed the doors closed. Facing the blonde, he glared as harshly as he could without getting any closer to the man. 

“No need to be so offended~” he cooed, pinching Romano’s cheek. The latter slapped his hand away, crossing his arms and quickly walking away. “Oh come on~ Do you ever smile?”

“What I do and don’t do isn’t any of your business either! Why are you even here Ro-….uh…” 

“Just call me Flavio. Flavio Vargas is my human name~” Flavio answered the unasked question of Romano’s as he stuttered with lack of a name. “And why am I here? Well! I was curious of what my counterpart is like, so…yes, I’m here now.”

“Well you’re not wanted! Go away damn it!” Romano shouted, face red. Flavio stared at him without speaking for a bit, a smile on his face. “W-What is it?”

“Anybody ever tell you that you look like a tomato when you’re angry?” Flavio chimed, humour in his tone. Romano growled but calmed down a bit.

“Yes, I’ve been told many times since I was a kid, whatever.” He sighed. He glanced at the blonde, looking at his fanciful clothing, his neat hair and his stupid glasses. Romano couldn’t deny he was good looking. His felt his cheeks flush up, but he quickly turned away from the blonde, rushing out of his bedroom. “Wantsomethingtoeati’mhungryi’llbeinthekitchenokbyegoddmanit” Flavio was taken slightly aback at the reaction, but got a fair idea of why Romano was acting this way. Smirking deviously, he followed his counterpart downstairs, finding him in the kitchen, furiously looking through the fridge for something.

“What do you usually eat then?” He asked, leaning against door frame. Romano looked up, frowning as usual, not really understand what he meant by that.

“Ugh…food? Like, you know, Italian food?” He closed the fridge with a handful of ingredients, of which tomatoes were included. “Why? What the heck do you eat that you gotta question my diet?” Flavio cocked his head to the side, watching the brunette.

“We eat Italian food too~” he chimed, but stop, watching the Italian’s reaction. “Although, my brother and I do have a tendency for…meat.” He emphasised the word. Romano felt a chill go down his spine, not liking the way Flavio was looking at him. 

“Wha- You gotta be kidding me.” He growled, putting the ingredients down, avoiding Flavio’s look. “Oliver said your world was messed up; I didn’t realise you’d be so messed up that there’d be cannibals.” Flavio giggled, and the effeminate sound of it put Romano on edge, cringing as his flamboyant counterpart almost struts towards him.

“You are such an innocent guy, aren’t you~?” Flavio purred, getting closer to Romano that the latter was comfortable with. “Have you even ever had a lover?” The brunette glared at the blonde, seriously considering throwing a tomato into the blonde’s face and dirtying his too perfect clothes. Romano desperately thought of something to change the subject and that’s when he noticed something; being so close to Flavio, he saw in that the roots of his hair were brown, not blonde. 

“Do you bleach your hair?” He blurted out suddenly, surprising both of them. Flavio blinked at the sudden change of topic, raising a perfect eyebrow.

“What if I do?” Romano gave him a small smile, which made him look mischievous.

“Ah, so you’re not perfect after all, are you? Can’t even bleach your roots properly; isn’t that a bit sloppy for a high-fashion fake like you?” In truth, Romano was feeling very vulnerable this close to Flavio, which was why he was so willing to insult the man. He saw Flavio’s eyes darken with something close to anger. “Oh I’m sorry, did I hit a soft spot?” he pushed once more, panicking on the inside and keeping his eyes on where he kept the sharp cooking utensils in the kitchen.

He never did get a chance to reach them though as Flavio wrapped a hand around his neck, threatening to choke him. Romano’s eyes widened as fear took place and became obvious, instinctively wrapping his wrists around Flavio’s hand in an attempt to make him let go of him. Flavio was staring straight at him from over his glasses, so that Romano could see his eyes properly for the first time; they were black, not because that was the colour of the iris, but because his pupils were so dilated. He knew what that was, it was a condition called Mydriasis, which usually occurs due to disease, trauma or drug consumption, which Romano believed that Flavio had gone through all of them. Nonetheless, he was shaking in Flavio’s hold, terrified of his counterpart was giving him. Flavio suddenly smiled and let go of Romano’s neck, the latter rushing backwards into a counter, holding his neck and watching the blonde fearfully.

“Heh, you’re tough at all, are you? You’re a huge coward.” He chimed, as if he was discussing the good weather. Romano frowned, but said nothing, very much aware that he wasn’t the bravest of the countries, and also he didn’t trust himself to not answer without a trembled in his voice. “Look at you; you’re like a new born lamb with how much you’re shaking.” He reached out for Romano again, but the latter slapped his hand away, much more violently than he had done earlier.

“Don’t…touch me, you freak.” Romano spat, fear and anger visible in his green eyes. Flavio was taken aback at the viciousness of the glare, but didn’t show it. 

“Or what?” Romano couldn’t answer that; Flavio was a lot more intimidating than he ever could be. Romano looked down at the ground in defeat, knowing he had no chance to intimidate Flavio. “That’s right~ you can’t do anything against me~” the latter purred, approaching Romano, brushing his fingers against Romano’s cheek, the brunette flinching at the gesture. “You’re so weak and cute, that I could eat you right now, and you’d hardly lift a finger.” Romano attempted to move away due to the potential threat, but Flavio suddenly gripped his hair. “Come now, are you running away? Not surprising, you seem like he type to get pushed around by his own people~”

“So…so what?! You’re no better than me!” Romano snapped suddenly, hesitating to move with Flavio gripping at his hair. “I may get pushed around by my own people, but at least I don’t fucking EAT THEM! And…and…you abuse drugs! Your eyes are a tell-tale to your condition! AND you’re vain with how much you care about your looks and about fashion!” He shouted into Flavio’s face, blabbering out anything that he could to postpone Flavio from doing anything. “I KNOW I’m not a great guy, and I KNOW I’m a jerk, a coward and all that; you, on the other hand, obviously think you’re a gift of heaven to earth and that you’re oh so fucking perfect, and I’ve only met you a couple of hours ago!” 

Flavio stared in genuine surprised at his brunette counterpart, then started laughing. Romano wasn’t sure on how to react at that, so just watched the fake blonde warily.

“You’re much more appealing than I gave you credit for~” Flavio said condescendingly, letting go of Romano’s hair to pat him on the cheek. “You’re quite a number aren’t you~” Romano didn’t dare stay close to the man any longer and slipped passed him, returning to the ingredients he had taken out from the fridge. 

“Whatever…” he murmured, now on edge. He probably should be a lot less calm considering what just happened, but Romano knew that in this instance, he needed to be serious, for Flavio was anything but weak, as his painful neck was pointing out to him, so all Romano could do was busy himself making…something. Whatever it was, it was going one hundred per cent meat free.

He ended up making a classic mozzarella and tomato salad, topped with some basil leaves and olive oil. Flavio had been watching him make the easy and healthy meal the whole time, to which Romano desperately attempted to ignore, without much success. When he had finished making the salad, he pushed a plate of the food in Flavio’s direction, refusing to get close to him on his own accord. Without saying anything, Flavio picked up the plate and a fork that Romano had laid on the counter for him, and starting eating. The blonde did like tomatoes, however he didn’t like the potential of them staining his clothes. He couldn’t deny however that the tomatoes were juicy, that the mozzarella soft, nor that the basil leaves and olive oil had a taste that he didn’t have back at home.

“You certainly have good food…” he commented, Romano glancing at him, confused at the statement. “Back at home, things don’t grow as well as we’d like it to. Things still grow, but not to their full potential; most countries’ earth is unfertile because of how corrupted and shallow most of us are.” Maybe Flavio was more self-aware than Romano gave him credit for.

“…That bad, huh?” Romano muttered, trying to imagine what that kind of world would look like. The two continued eating quietly, both avoiding eye contact, concentrating on the food. Flavio started to stare at his counterpart, the latter doing his best to ignore him. 

Romano was plain looking. Plain brown hair, plain brown eyes, plain tanned skin, nothing really special looking about him except for his hair curl that Flavio also has. Something about his simple aesthetics is appealing to Flavio, who could very easily be described as flamboyantly fabulous in every way (in his opinion and anyway, and that’s the only one that matters). 

As he ponders this, a drop of olive oil drips Romano’s chin. Before he can wipe it off, Flavio grabs his chin, forcing him to look at the blonde. Romano felt nervous, not liking being touched this way.

He really didn’t like Flavio licking the olive oil off his chin. 

“The hell!?” Romano slapped Flavio, making the latter let go of him as Romano stood up abruptly. 

“Ouch, that hurt!” Flavio whined. He wasn’t really bothered about the slap, it was nothing compared to some of the things he had dealt with back in his world. “Was that really necessary?”

“Was licking my face fucking necessary?!” Romano shouts, to which Flavio gave a laugh before wrapping his arms around the Italian, bringing their chests together. “W-W-W-W-Wha-!”

“Calm down, sweety~” Flavio purred. “Rela~ax, let’s have some fu~un~…” Romano’s face turned the colour of a tomato, which Flavio found very cute. What he didn’t find so cute was how he struggled, trying to push Flavio off of him. “Oh, come on now, don’t fight. You’ll make things a lot less fun.”

“I-I don’t want your fun! Fuck off!” Romano shouted, turning his face away from the blonde and pushing hard against his chest in order to get as far as possible from him. Flavio rolled his eyes at how embarrassed Romano was acting. So to make it easier for himself, he just picked up Romano in a bride like style, making his way to the bedroom. The other Italian fought all the way there, screaming vulgar words and insults at the blonde.

“Shut up, for god’s sake!” Flavio shouted as he threw Romano on the bed and stood before it, hands on hips. “Do you ever shut up?” He got no answer from the brunette, only a pillow thrown at his face, which hit. Pretty hard for a pillow too. None too impressed, Flavio huffed exasperatedly and turned to Romano’s wardrobe, which he had previously messed up. Searching through it, he found what he was looking for; a belt and a silk handkerchief. Why the latter was there didn’t make much sense to the blonde, but he didn’t care to question it now. As he turned round he saw that Romano was attempting to make a run for it, already at the door, holding the doorknob. “No you don’t!”

Romano flung the door open but before he could sprint off he was tackled by Flavio and the two landed in a messy pile on the floor. Still the brunette shouted and clawed at the blonde, the latter started to get steadily angrier so in order to get the other to shut up for a moment, he pulled on his curl. 

That made him quiet. Made him freeze too. 

Flavio knew the effect of getting his curl touched on himself was pleasurable one, but whether or not the effect on Romano was the same he wasn’t sure, since they were opposites. Before he could really question the brunette about it though, he was butt headed by the back of Romano’s head.

“Don’t touch my curl, you bastard!” He almost screeched as he elbowed the man on him best he could, eventually throwing him off. Though he didn’t run, just crawled away backwards against the wall, glaring daggers at the blonde who was holding his nose in pain. Flavio returned the glare that was being shot at him although he quickly smirked when he saw how red Romano’s face was.

“Aw~ getting hot and bothered?” Flavio purred. Romano snarled as he attempted to get up but kept tripping over himself. “Come on now, aren’t you the least bit curious about having fun times with your opposite?” 

“No, actually, I really fucking am not!” The brunette snapped. Flavio didn’t believe him and grabbed onto his ankle. “Enough! Let me go!” Romano whined. He shut his mouth shut as Flavio pulled him towards him again and starting fiddling with his curl. His body twitched as he bet on his lips to hold down a moan. He was getting turned and Flavio could tell. 

“Your body is so much more honest than you are.” The blonde purred, pressing his body down against the brunette. “Just a one night stand? No strings attached? Please~?” Flavio almost begged, sounding needy. What was it with this guy and being painfully honest about his emotions? If Romano was like that, he’d actually have more friends by now, Romano thought to himself.

The fiddling of his curl was sending arousing shivers down his spine, straight to his crotch. He had been against getting close to the other Italian, but at this point, with arousal fogging his mind, the idea of fucking didn’t seem so bad…

“…Fine, whatever…” he mumbled, embarrassed at admitting his arousal, even if indirectly. Hearing that, Flavio dragged both of them up and back into the bedroom. Romano was pushed onto the bed once more, gentler this time. He glanced up at his blonde counterpart, who was holding the belt and handkerchief he had gotten out of his wardrobe earlier. “What are you going to do with that?” Romano asked a little worried.

“Only something that’ll make this more fun~” Flavio purred again, crawling on top of the brunette. The latter blushed furiously, especially when a hand started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest. “Give me your hands.” Romano didn’t like to be ordered around, but he did as he was told, too nervous to argue. Flavio held his wrists together and tied the belt around them to restrain them, just in case Romano was to attempt to punch him. “I’m not having you cursing your lungs out, so open your mouth too.”

“What, why? I don- umpf!” As Romano opened his mouth the handkerchief was stuffed into it as a makeshift gag. 

“Ah, some peace and quiet~” Flavio joked, receiving a pissed growl in response. Although that too was silenced as the blonde’s hands started roaming the brunette’s body. The shirt wasn’t coming off with the way Romano’s hands were tied together but that didn’t seem to bother Flavio or Romano. The latter was responding positively to the touches, arching his back, wanting more intimate contact. Flavio gave in to the wordless requests, pressing a hand against the brunette’s crotch.

“Nnn!” Romano moaned, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in pleasured bliss. He really hadn’t gotten laid recently so finally getting some attention was weirdly relaxing, even if it was himself (sort of) who was pleasuring him. Flavio didn’t stop, simply adding more pressure, grinning at how Romano responded by pushing his hips upwards.

“You’re so cute like this. All submissive and willing~” Flavio complimented, his other wrapping around Romano’s neck before dragging down, caressing his collar bone and chest. Stopping in there, Flavio started playing with Romano’s right nipple. Another muffled moan was heard from Romano as he arched his chest too, lifting his arms above his head to expose himself more to the blonde, wanting more stimulation. “So needy too.”

Romano’s head was swirling. He was enjoying this, although he wouldn’t ever verbally admit it. It was way too embarrassing to voice his wants, needs and thoughts on a daily basis, so how could he express them in such circumstances? Flavio didn’t seem to be struggling with that at all though.

“I want you so bad.” Yeah, the blonde really had no problem with voicing his wants. “Can I keep going?” Romano gave a small nod, then a gasp as Flavio undid his trousers an palmed him through his underwear. He relaxed completely, eyes still closed.

Flavio was mesmerised at how differently Romano was acting. He seemed to enjoy the physical contact and affectionate caresses. Flavio was eager to give him more.

Finally, Flavio completely undressed Romano, leaving only his shirt on. Now fully exposed Romano’s face was as red as a tomato, the blush even reaching down to his collar bones. He closed his legs as embarrassment started to creep into his gut but Flavio was having none of that and pushed his knees apart.

“You’re not only cute, you’re hot too.” Flavio murmured, lowering himself so he was face to face with Romano. “I want to see how much I can make you fall apart.” Romano’s ears buzzed so much he hardly heard that, nor did he really hear the sound of Flavio undressing. He opened his eyes a little, but quickly shut them at the sight of the blonde; completely naked, smooth fair skin and soft looking blonde looks. It was almost too much for Romano. “Hey, Romano, look at me.” Reluctantly Romano did as he was told, eyes half lidded and glazed over with arousal. “Fuck…at this rate, I’m just going to fuck you into oblivion.” Flavio muttered as he tangled his fingers into the brown hair, fingers wrapping around the curl. 

Romano almost cried out in pleasure, and would have down too if it hadn’t been for the handkerchief in his mouth. He bucked his hips against Romano’s, pushing his ass against Flavio’s hard cock, eager to get things going. The blonde groaned at the pressure, wanting nothing more than to thrust into Romano’s plush ass and make him scream but he controlled himself; he wanted Romano to enjoy this after all. 

It was weird to be in this situation, Flavio admitted to himself. He was obsessing over how Romano could be so defensive about everything in a world so much better than his. From what he could tell of the little time he’d spent with his brunette counterpart, the man didn’t seem willing to share his feelings with others and was easily scared and manipulated. Things that Flavio would die before being. He was honest about his feelings, especially about himself, intimidating and the manipulator, all ways to survive in his no man’s land of a world, where limits and boundaries hardly exist and everybody was in a constant state of hostile cohabitation. It wasn’t pleasant.

How someone like Romano could exist confused him yet awed him, in a weird, sick way. 

Just as eager to get to the fun part, Flavio reached to the handkerchief stuffed in Romano’s mouth and took out but didn’t give Romano a chance to say anything before thrusting three fingers into his mouth and catching his tongue. Romano sputtered, slobber covering Flavio’s fingers as he continued to toy with the inside of the Italian’s mouth, fingers playing especially with his tongue. The brunette kept slobbering around his fingers, saliva dripping down the side of his mouth and onto the bed.

Taking out his now soaked fingers, Flavio wasted no time in poking a finger at Romano’s hole, the man beneath jumping at the action, before forcing his body to relax and accept the single digit when it pushed it. Flavio wriggled his finger, trying to get Romano to be more relaxed and used to the feeling before he attempted to push another finger in. 

Only when Romano started to push back onto the finger, wanting more pressure did Flavio slip in the second finger, then the third one soon after. 

Romano was letting out loud and lewd moans, arching his neck with his eyes tightly shut, concentrating on the pleasure he was receiving.

“Nnn…aaAH!” A sudden pleasured cry from that wet mouth told Flavio that he had found that sensitive spot inside his other self and concentrated on fingering that spot more intensely, wanting to hear more of those sounds Romano was making. “Ah ah ah…! T-Too mu-ah! Too much!” he moaned out his hips squirming. “Flavio!” he cried out desperately.

“Tell me what you want.” He said in a hoarse voice, incredibly turned on. Desperate brown eyes stared back at his, confused in the fog of arousal. “Be honest with me; tell me what you want me to do.”

“B-But you know-!”

“I want to hear you say it. Please.” Saying ‘please’ when telling someone to beg wasn’t exactly the norm, but Flavio really wanted to see Romano be honest with himself and tell him what he wanted. He absolutely craved to hear that. The panting man groaned and squirmed, once more arching his back desperately.

“F-Flavio, I n-need you...” Romano could see that Flavio wasn’t satisfied with that. It took all he could to not start crying with embarrassment at having to say what he wanted Flavio to do. “I want you to fuck me hard! Like you said you wanted to! Please I need you to fuck me right now!” he blurted out finding his face behind his tied wrist, face red with humiliation. Flavio hummed happily, retrieving his fingers from Romano’s hole.

“With pleasure~” Flavio wrapped his wet hand around his achingly hard cock, letting out a pleasured sigh as he quickly pumped himself before pressed the tip against Romano’s stretched hole. He pushed forward, slowly, losing himself in the feeling of the warm heat and the long moan let out by Romano.

Once fully sheathed inside the trembling body, he stilled so that Romano could get used to the feeling, although his patience was running short and he soon wouldn’t even try to hold back on ravishing the cute brunette.

“Move…dammit move!” Romano whined, grabbing one of Flavio’s wrists with his tied hands. “Move!” A low growl from Flavio told Romano that he was to expect only the best from the blonde. He was correct in assuming this, for as soon as he finished with whining, Flavio started thrusting into him with wild abandon, still in enough control to hit Romano’s good spot, turn the man into a blabbering mess.

Flavio wrapped his arms around Romano’s shoulders, moving the man’s tied arms, so that they were around his neck, and leaned his forehead against his shoulder, breathing hard against sweaty skin. Romano was moaning loudly, letting out begs for ‘more’ and ‘harder’, until he couldn’t find the breath anymore to say anything and only panted loudly into the open air, sinking his hands into the fake blonde hair of his counterpart.

As Flavio thrusted into him, Romano bucked back, eyes shut as he drank in the pleasure. Feeling a little malicious however, he searched Flavio’s hair until his left index finger hooked around a curl identical to his. The rhythm of the thrusts missed a beat as he pulled on it, Flavio letting out a long and deep moan.

“You really do want me to fuck you unconscious.” The fake blonde growled, voice dripping in arousal, as he pushed so he was face to face with the brunette. Without any warning, Romano’s own curl was between Flavio’s teeth. He jumped, pleasure electrifying him as he cried out, bucking his hips and pulling on Flavio’s curl.

The thrusting continued, more intense now. Romano swore that Flavio had gotten deeper into him, the feeling of being filled so much more prominent and intensified as he eyes rolled up slightly, mouth open, curses and moans flowing freely. He could feel Flavio’s tongue playing with his curl.

It was soon all too much, especially as Flavio reached inbetween their bodies and started to pump Romano’s leaking cock, matching the speed of their thrusting. 

With a stuttered groan, Romano’s came into Flavio’s hand, bucking his hips against Flavio, curl still inbetween his teeth. He didn’t stop pulling on Flavio’s curl neither.

Flavio felt like he was losing his mind with how good it all was, and the feeling of Romano tightening around him made his hips stutter to stop as he spilled inside his counterpart, moaning loudly finally letting Romano’s curl go.

The two panted as they came down from their high, both equally as exhausted. Romano pulled on the Flavio’s fake blonde hair, avoiding his curl.

“Can you untie me now…?” He murmured sleepily. “And…uh…pu-pull out…too?” Flavio heard a hint of embarrassment. 

“Sure thing.” He yawned. Pulling out slowly, he untied the belt around Romano’s wrist, before flopping onto his side and cuddling up to the brunette, arms wrapped around his waist and nuzzling his jaw. 

“…I should clean up.” 

“Later.”

“I’m hungry.”

“We just ate.”

“Somebody didn’t let me finish.”

“Laterrrrrr~” Flavio whined not letting go of his brunette counterpart. Romano groaned in defeat, too lazy and sleepy anyway to get up. Instead he sloppily pulled the cover over both of them and in turn cuddled into Flavio’s chest, breathing in his scent, weirdly similar but different to his.

This was all very messed up, but it was a kind of messed up that Romano didn’t really mind getting into. Not that he’d admit that. Ever.


End file.
